Time After Time
by Punky Misfit
Summary: After Booth is abducted and tortured, he and Brennan must learn to reacclimate while dealing with feelings of guilt and jealousy.
1. The Abduction

Seeley Booth was drowning.

The feel of cold liquid rushing over his skull brought him to his senses from the dreamlike state he'd been in. The funny thing was, only his head was submerged. The rest of his body felt dry. How could this be? Where had he been before this rude awakening?

He struggled to free himself only to feel pressure shove his head further down. Someone was forcing his watery prison. Booth tried to move his arms only to find they'd been bound together. More and more he was becoming frantic. Just what was going on?

With all his strength he pushed himself upwards. He was released long enough to get a gasp of air. Then he was pressed back under. Though he tried not to he struggled furiously. Booth was sure if he laid still whomever was attempting to kill him would think he had drowned. However, the human nature of panic kept him fighting.

It did him no good. He began to slip out of consciousness. His delirious mind was urging him to take a breath. Suddenly he was pulled out. A hard hit to his face snapped his head around. He was dropped straight down onto the ground. Without use of his arms his impact was hard.

He breathed in giant gulps of air gratefully. His attacker barely gave him a moment before he lifted him by his arms and backed him up against a tile wall. Or so it felt. Everything was pitched in shadows and darkness. Booth really couldn't even get a good idea of what his abductor looked like.

He was spun around. Whoever it was stayed behind him with a powerful grip on his arms. "Walk," the rough voice commanded. When Booth resisted he was dragged forward. Once again he fell, but this time he tried to pick himself back up again before he was dragged across the floor.

They passed through various rooms before the weight released. Booth's legs were quick to give out. He fell back against another wall and slid down onto the floor. Wincing, he stayed perfectly still. Next to him he could hear feminine voices crying softly. In the half light he turned to look. Two women were bound just as he was, with thick chains keeping their wrists together. Both looked strangely familiar to him. Where did he know them from?

It was hard to say. With the clouded state his mind was in he was lucky he knew his own name. How had he gotten here? He tried to remember.

_Booth pulled into the parking lot of the ice rink where he practiced hockey with his team. He knew he was early. The digital clock on the dashboard only confirmed this. Shutting his car off, he leaned back. Well, he could go in and get an early start warming up. But being a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, he just didn't feel like going in yet. The beautiful sun shining down through the large oak trees for some reason reminded him of his partner, Brennan. Unconsciously he found himself calling her._

"_Brennan," she giggled._

_That was odd. He knew she wasn't much of a giggler. "Hey Bones, it's me. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the diner later? Grab dinner or whatever?" Booth realized how stupid he sounded. They rarely hung out together on the weekends. Hell, they spent all week together working on cases for the FBI. Why would she want to see him on the weekend as well?_

_Because he loved her, and despite all her actions to the contrary he hoped someday she'd come to love him back._

"_I can't, Booth. I'm tied up-"_

_He didn't let her say anymore. "Okay. I'll see you Monday."_

A new surge of fear seized his heart. Had Brennan been with him when he'd been taken? He tried to remember.

_Hockey practice went well. Afterwards Booth was sore and spent. His hot plans for the evening had changed to take out and a game on the television. He showered in the locker room, changed, and then headed outside._

_The sun had gone down and a bitter wind had picked up. Booth trudged across the parking lot to his car. For a moment it was hard to find. He drove a black Suburban, and the light overlooking his car had gone out._

_Luckily it had been one of the few left. Booth had taken his time leaving. What was the point? No one was waiting for him._

_He unlocked his car and climbed into the driver's seat. The door shut by itself after him. A sudden quiet noise drew his attention. To anyone else it might have gone unnoticed. But to him, being a former sniper, he heard it immediately._

_Before he could react in any way a figure popped up over the back seat. Tape was put over his mouth and a cloth shoved over his nose._

_Neither of these stopped Booth. He fought, even after he saw the glint of a knife blade._

Booth breathed a little easier. No. Brennan wasn't with him. She'd turned him down, which maybe at the time had been disheartening but now he was thankful for. All that mattered to him was that she was safe. Whatever came his way he'd handle.

For the first time he began to feel the injuries he sustained during his abducting. His palms and arms were covered in defense wounds. Another sharp pain in his side told him he'd been cut there as well.

"You probably all wonder why you're here," a voice began. The sound of footsteps echoed off the walls. The man knelt down besides Booth. He lifted the sleeve on his shirt and removed a syringe from his pocket. Booth shot forward, cracking the figure with his forehead. God only knew what was in that syringe; what he planned on doing.

For his action he earned a hit to the temple with something metal that nearly knocked him unconscious. He was helpless as he felt the sting of the needle go into his arm. A potion shot into his veins.

"You might remember me," he continued as he moved onto the woman besides Booth. "As Brenghause. All of you managed to ruin my life by sending me to prison, for a crime I didn't commit."

Booth recalled him now clearly. The case had happened years ago, long before he worked with Brennan. A series of women had been brutally murdered. "We had the murder weapon," the sound of his own voice shocked him. "We had DNA."

Another sharp hit to the head. His eyelids fluttered. He couldn't let go. There was no telling what would happen to him if he did.

"I was innocent!" Brenghause screamed with his mouth only inches from Booth's face. His putrid breath made him gag.

Brenghause moved onto the last woman. "I had to pay for my supposed crime. Now you all are going to pay for yours."

An extreme wave of exhaustion crashed over Booth's shoulders. His eyelids drooped, though he fought to keep them open. What had Brenghause injected them with? What was his intent? Booth wondered if he was about to die.

His worry further deepened when the woman besides him began to shake. Her body erupted into a grand mal seizure. During the entire episode her eyes stayed wide open. Booth couldn't stop staring at her. His own heart bounced around in his chest.

As the seizure ended she let out a shrill scream. Then it was done. Booth knew instantly she had died.

Brenghause had been standing by observing. He bent now next to her and checked for a pulse. "Aw, boo," he mused in a taunting voice. "She left the party. I guess all of the fun will now have to be saved for you two."

It was becoming more and more difficult for Booth to keep his eyes open. He cast one last look at the woman who was still alive before passing out.

***

Brennan was worried. No. Scratch that. She was more than that. Whatever word that meant severely worried was what she truly was. It was Tuesday morning. For an hour she'd been sitting in her office staring at her phone. Where was Booth?

It was unusual for her not to hear from him. Especially if he wasn't coming into work, such as the case had been yesterday and so far that morning.

The last she'd heard from him had been on Saturday. She'd been laying in bed with her recent romantic interest when he'd called. Any other time she would have been tempted to meet with him. Above all he was her best friend. But caught in a romantic tryst with her lover was just too wonderful to leave.

Somewhere deep down she worried he was cross with her. Like he had known what she had blown him off to do. But that was irrational. They weren't children. Besides, Booth wouldn't be so childish as to not inform her he wasn't coming into work. Something was wrong. Brennan wasn't good at reading people's behavior; their non verbal cues. But when it came to Booth, she knew.

She called the bureau to confirm that they hadn't heard from him either. She was informed after a few more hours a formal investigation was being launched. Brennan didn't have the patience to wait. She needed to kick her own investigation forward. In doing so she stopped first at his apartment.

Brennan had been to Booth's apartment many times. She knew exactly where he hid his extra key. Not thinking twice about it she let herself inside. Nothing looked out of place. Except it looked as though he hadn't been home in two days. There wasn't a single sign of life.

In his living room she disappointingly sat down on his couch. She didn't like the sick feeling that was pitting in her stomach. _Think, _she urged herself. The last time she had heard from him was early Saturday evening. What did he typically do Saturday evenings? Didn't she know?

Around his apartment she looked for ideas. A framed hockey portrait grabbed her eye. _Yes! He has hockey practice around seven. _Retrieving her phone from her purse, she checked the time he had phoned her. Six forty five. It was a clue.

Brennan snatched up her keys. She hurried outside back to her car. There was no saying anything would be waiting for her at the rink. But if that was where he'd been then it was the perfect place to start.

Sometimes while stuck in traffic Brennan fantasized she drove some type of police vehicle like Booth did. Rushing through the streets now she for wished for it more than ever. The speed limit signs didn't register in her mind. Nothing could get in her way. All she could think about was Booth.

Like a beacon his car was sitting abandoned in the parking lot of the hockey rink. She pulled into the space next to it and practically leapt out. Before snooping inside she walked all along his Suburban looking for anything amiss. Once again she turned up nothing.

Frowning, she stood next to the driver's door. What else could she do? It wasn't as though she could get inside the car without his keys. Or could she? In an act of desperation she tried the door handle. To her surprise the door opened in her hand. She frowned deeply. Booth wouldn't just leave his car unlocked with all the equipment he carried inside. She let that thought go and searched around.

The blood stains made her heart stop.

There was blood smeared on the seats. More blood was smudged on the steering wheel. Booth's keys laid on the floor mat. His car key looked bent, as if it had been knocked out of the ignition.

On the windshield something flapping in the wind drew her attention. She moved about to see a piece of paper stuck underneath a windshield wiper. Hastily she fished it out. No doubt it was a parking ticket, Brennan assumed as she opened it. Instead, she saw words written in thick, black permanent marker. **CATCH ME IF YOU CAN.**


	2. The Investigation

"_Your honor, the results are inconclusive that Brenghause committed these acts." Booth was sitting in the witness' stand inside a massive courthouse. A nearly packed bench of jurors seemed to hang onto his every word. Because of that, he spoke carefully. "The DNA found on the women's clothing was a complete match."_

"_How about a murder weapon?"_

"_A knife found in Mr. Brenghause's apartment during a sweep matched to the injuries inflicted upon the victims. All of them."_

_The rest of the trial was a blur. Except the end. A juror stood and spoke for his peers. "We the people find Ryan Brenghause guilty upon all charges."_

_Brenghause bounded up from his seat. "I'm innocent!" He screamed. "I'll get you for this!" He pointed at Booth, the Judge, and his own lawyer. Booth just shook his head as the man was carted off in hand cuffs._

"_NNOOOOOOOO!"_

It took a minute for Booth to realize the scream wasn't a part of his dream. He came to gradually. The first image that appeared to him was the woman who had died besides him. She hadn't been moved. Her dead, unseeing eyes still stared up into him. The other woman accompanying them was missing. _His Judge, and his lawyer. _It made sense now.

Booth was just beginning to drift off again when a hand tightened around his throat. Sputtering for air, he saw Brenghause's face dangerously close to his own. The man was enjoying Booth's misery. Once again his attempts to get loose were futile. Without use of his arms or legs there was little he could do.

"Not so tough now," Brenghause smirked. He released his hold long enough to slam Booth's head back against the wall. "Without your gun." Slam. "Who's guilty now, Agent Booth?" Slam.

Booth knew better than to speak. He'd been through torture before when he'd been in the Army. Sadly the situation was nothing new for him.

Pain cut like a knife through his skull. He sucked in a breath and held it. Brenghause would see not a hint of despair.

His fingers clamped down tightly across his neck. Booth could hardly breathe. If he wanted to, Booth believed he could crush his throat completely. In a low, menacing voice Brenghause growled, "what do you want?"

_What's he talking about? _Booth was clueless.

Slam.

Obviously he expected some sort of answer out of him. "I want," he paused. "You to go to Hell."

Brenghause smiled, showing a gap where teeth had once been. "Aw, sweet. But wrong answer!" This time he smashed his head with so much force that Booth nearly fell back under. Stars appeared in his vision.

"Oh no," He declared. Booth was yanked up onto his feet. "The fun ain't over for you yet."

He could only limp along besides Brenghause as he led them to a cold metal table. Brenghause literally tossed him down onto the cold surface. "The real fun starts now," he laughed in delight as he restrained Booth's feet.

Booth was subjected to all out torture. He was bruised, broken, and burned. Through it all he kept his stoic composure. Brenghause seemed to grow agitated by his lack of emotion; lack of submission. When he grew bored of his game he left Booth tied up and alone.

The ceiling felt like it was closing in as Booth allowed himself to fall back into the darkness. To get away from the pain.

***

"So, I looked over all the cases Booth solved involving suspects leaving cryptic notes. I think I've come up with a lead."

Brennan looked up at the FBI agent standing before her. It'd been twenty four hours since she'd come across Booth's dumped Suburban. Four days since she had last heard from him. By now she feared the absolute worst. Booth was a force to be reckoned with. But he was injured. How bad had he been hurt before he'd been taken?

Statically she knew that after forty eight hours there was typically little hope for someone to be found alive. They were already on extended time. A new note had been found tucked in the crack of Booth's door during another look into his apartment by the FBI. **HICKORY, DICKORY, RHYME - THE FED'S RUNNING OUT OF TIME.**

"What?" Brennan was groggy. She'd been operating on little sleep. What she had gotten had been filled with terrifying nightmares of the possible demise of her partner. It was no wonder she'd dozed off at her desk. She'd never heard Baker come in.

"My main lead is Michael Brenghause. He was just released on parole. Booth put him in prison for the sadistic murders of four women. He raped his victims beforehand. He was practically begging the police to find him. He left notes all over the city until he was caught." Baker flipped through the file he held in his hands. "He took his all his victims to the same abandoned slaughterhouse in just the outskirts of D.C."

His words were barely penetrating her mind. A formal task force had been assigned to look into the disappearance of Booth. Baker was appointed Agent in Charge.

"Do you think that's where he's taken Booth to?" Brennan pondered. She hated the feeling of helplessness she was experiencing. Unfortunately she had nothing for her and her team to go on. The blood had proven to be Booth's, and his alone. The rest of the scene had been swept clean without the slightest hint of evidence.

"I think it's possible. Especially now."

"Why now?"

"Janet Shanker and Deborah Drenner, the Judge and his lawyer working his trial, have also turned up missing."

The chair Brennan was sitting in crashed into the wall from the impact of the sudden rise to her feet. "Why are you wasting time explaining this to me? Lets go." She strutted past him for the door.

"Dr. Brennan," he stopped her. She stared bravely straight into his eyes. In any other circumstance she might have found him attractive, with his short dark hair and crystal blue eyes set against copper skin. But this was not the time or place. Booth was her main focus.

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea, you coming with me."

"Why not?" She retorted.

He had to break gaze. "I just, I think you need to be prepared… for what we might find…"

_He thinks Booth's dead, _she realized. The implication knocked the wind from her lungs. Not that Baker knew. Outwardly she allowed no visible obvious emotion. "He's just my partner," she snapped, unable to come up with a better answer. Ahead of him she charged out of her office. _I should have been with him. He has to be okay. I'll never forgive myself if he's not._


	3. The Rescue

"Hey."

Booth was just waking up. Besides him the woman he'd come to know as Debbie was curled up tight against him. The night before the two, after facing their own separate instances of torture, were thrown together on a cold concrete floor for the night. Every other night he'd kept them separated. Or so Booth thought. His memories were distorted.

Somehow though they were both nearly incapacitated and strangers to one another they'd slept close for the joined warmth their bodies provided. Not only did it give them warmth but also a strange sort of comfort.

"Hi," Booth acknowledged.

Debbie sat up. Like Booth her wrists were wrapped in heavy chains. "Another day, huh?"

Booth didn't dare move. His body was throbbing all over. Brenghause had taken out all his frustration on him the afternoon before. In the aftermath he'd been left with a black eye and burns on his wrists. "Yeah."

"Do you think anyone's looking for us?"

How long had they been gone? A week? A month? The days had all run together. Booth's black outs didn't exactly help him keep time. "I hope so." _Bones has to be looking for me. Why hasn't she found me yet? _He knew better than to rely on others. But he also knew the relentlessness of his partner.

Debbie noticed his obvious distress. "Good God," she whispered, touching his face delicately. Booth breathed in through his teeth. Immediately she backed off. "Sorry."

"It's not you." They both silently noticed that Booth seemed to be getting the brunt of Brenghause's anger. It didn't make sense to him. He'd only murdered women before he'd been arrested. Abusing Booth went against his routine.

Not that Debbie didn't have her own injuries. She also bore lacerations and burns all over her body. Booth was no expert in anatomy but with just a glance he knew her wrist was broken.

"He's angrier at you," Debbie murmured as though she were reading his thoughts.

But why? Because Booth had hunted him down? Had been the arresting agent? Did it really matter? Figuring out motives wouldn't do him any good. If they didn't rescue themselves soon they'd die. It'd been days since they'd had food or water. Brenghause had been withholding both. Booth was feeling its effects.

Since Booth didn't respond Debbie laid back down next to him. She hoped to give him solace by cuddling close. The funny thing was, it worked. Yes, he didn't know her very well. But any touch out of kindness felt amazing.

Suddenly bright lights went on overhead. Both of them shielded their eyes. Brenghause had been keeping them in the dark since the episode had begun. He strode confidently into the room. "Well now, how cute. The two victims are bonding."

Booth turned his head enough to glare at him. It was the only action he was capable of.

"Party time's over, kiddies." In his hand he held two syringes. Neither one could do anything as he injected them for the second time. Booth's forehead bumped against Debbie's. They looked into each other's eyes.

Debbie was wrestled away first. The lights shut off as Brenghause hauled her from the room. Booth was left alone with his thoughts.

He must have blacked out again because he woke to his body being dragged across the floor. If he had the energy he would have fought. But he was simply tapped out. Booth had nothing left to give.

Brenghause heaved him up onto the same table he'd been on before. Booth watched numbly as he lifted a broken metal pipe from underneath the table. Once again he leaned in, keeping his head only inches away from Booth's face. He asked the same question he'd been asking every day. The question Booth had no answer to. "What do you want?"

He kept silent.

Brenghause smashed the pipe down against Booth's hand, breaking two fingers instantly. Booth twisted his face in pain. He gasped, trying not to let on how much pain he was in.

"Ah ha," he smiled satisfactorily. "You're _not _Superman. You are capable of feeling pain."

Booth trembled. He couldn't control it anymore. The look in Brenghause's eyes told him all he needed to know. Helplessly he could only watch as fate happened. There was nothing left to do.

The first few hits Booth felt throughout his whole body. After that, he felt nothing. His body shied away from the pain. He was fading fast. Everything in sight began swimming in thick waves before his eyes involuntarily closed.

Brenghause stopped. He spoke just next to Booth's ear. "What do you want?"

All this time he'd been waiting for him to break, to ask for what was certain to be his upcoming death, Booth realized then. He refused to do it. Instead he curled his body inward slightly in an attempt to protect his ribs from further damage.

The pipe struck him again. The hits increased in their intensity. "What do you want?" Brenghause screamed his question.

The world was slipping from Booth's grasp. The unbearable pain was easing away from his tense muscles. His body went limp. He knew it was getting ready to give up on him. Despite his resolve he was close to telling Brenghause; close to begging for his own death. He remained just barely holding onto consciousness. _I'm sorry, Bones._

Off in the distance he could hear the sound of more than a dozen boots pounding the floor. The din grew louder until nothing could be heard but shouting voices. The beating stopped. He could sense Brenghause standing over him, the pipe held over his head.

There were so many voices that Booth couldn't focus. All he heard was a gun shot, followed by the sound of someone slumping to the floor. He knew he should have tried to see what was happening. But he was too weak. The monster in the darkness had appeared once again to take him away. This time he was more than willing.

More sounds. He felt someone put their hand upon his bruised neck to check for a pulse. If he could have smiled he would have. Out of everyone in the world he knew that touch. It still amazed him how someone who handled bones and remains all day could have such soft skin. _Bones._

"Booth," she whispered.

If he'd had the strength he would have done something in response. Something to show her he was glad she was with him.

"We need a blanket!" She yelled to someone.

It seemed like mere seconds passed before Brennan had wrapped him up and tugged his torso into her arms. "Hold on," she said in a soft voice next to his ear.

Someone pried his eyes open and shined a pen light. "Pupils are dilated."

Booth's eyes rolled back.

Brennan gasped. Her grip on him tightened.

The monster was drawing closer. Booth began taking in small, shallow breaths in a rapid procession.

"He's going into shock!" He heard somebody scream just as the monster took his hand and led him down into the shadows.


	4. Going Home

Brennan didn't think she'd ever forget finding Booth. She was sure the memory would haunt her for the rest of her life. Baker had tried to keep her from following the task force he had assembled inside the slaughter house. Coldly she'd disregarded him. No one was keeping her away from Booth.

They'd walked inside to find Brenghause beating Booth with a blunt instrument. Booth's eyes were shut. His body was turned inward slightly in defense. In protection. Brennan had struggled to control her anger. Then and there if she'd had a gun she would have blown Brenghause away herself without giving any warning.

She'd gone to him after the FBI had killed Booth's captor. Into her arms she'd pulled him, hurt and covered in blood. At first she was sure he knew she was with him. It might have been her imagination but she swore he relaxed. However after he'd gone into shock she knew he was beyond feeling anything.

The ambulance ride had been Hell. Booth's stats had been all over. By the time they reached the hospital Brennan had been in tears. All her life she'd never liked to show emotion. In order to get herself together she hid away in the bathroom. Only she'd ended up vomiting before she'd been able to properly do so.

Booth spent a week in a coma. There was speculation by his doctors as to whether he'd wake up at all. His injuries were extensive. During the torture he'd suffered multiple skull factures, two broken ribs, and broken fingers. Not to mention the burns and gashes. Dehydration and starvation had also done their own bits of damage.

Brennan never had any doubt. She patiently sat by him every day while waiting for him to come back to her. Visitors came and went. But she didn't. The only times she left were to change and eat. Nothing mattered to her until he woke up.

"This isn't your fault," Angela, her best friend and co worker, told her one day when she'd managed to convince her to accompany her down to the hospital cafeteria for lunch.

Brennan's head snapped up. "I know."

"No. I don't think you do." She knew her well enough to know how she was punishing herself mentally. "There's nothing you could have done."

"He called me," Brennan spoke in a low voice after hesitating for a moment. "Just before he was abducted. He asked me to meet him for dinner." Unabashedly her eyes teared up again. "I declined. I was with Dennis. Being intimate."

"Okay. So what?"

"I should have agreed."

Angela wasn't understanding. "He was kidnapped before he ever would have made it to you."

"That's just it, Ange," she took a shuddering breath. "If I had then when he didn't come I would have known something was wrong. I could have saved him sooner. He was abused for five days because of me. Because I was selfish."

"Sweetie-"

"I held him." A tear slipped. The image of him trembling; chest heaving and slipping into shock while she held onto him slammed into her like a bullet. "He was dying in my arms." Shaking her head, she stood up abruptly. "I need to get back to him."

Angela let her go.

When he did at last wake, it wasn't all how Brennan expected. _He _wasn't as Brennan expected. Although to be fair, she didn't know what to anticipate. She'd been quietly watching television at his bedside when she felt his fingers twitch. Her head snapped around so fast she nearly gave herself a headache. "Booth?" She questioned.

His expression turned into a hard cringe. Brennan grew sad. Booth wasn't awake yet and already he was feeling the pain of what he'd endured. The sound of his breathing increased in frequency as he pushed his eyes open. Or good eye, anyway. The other one was a horrible blackened color and swollen shut.

"Booth," she said again, taking a gentle hold of his thumb. She didn't want to hold his hand, with his broken fingers. The cuts kept her from stroking his arm. Even his face was too marred for her to show affection. No matter what she did she didn't want to cause him any more pain.

He was too dazed to notice. Straight upwards at the ceiling he directed his gaze. It was as though he hadn't heard her.

Worried, Brennan tried again. "Booth, look at me."

It took a few moments for it to sink in. Slowly he turned his head and looked at her.

"Hi," she smiled with tears in her eyes. Patiently she waited for him to ask where he was. To ask what had happened to him. He didn't, drawing more concern out of her. It wasn't until she really returned his stare that she understood why. In his eyes she could see he knew everything. He remembered everything.

Gasping, Booth flinched again. He turned his attention back to the ceiling overhead.

Brennan thought she understood. She pressed on the button that distributed pain medication into his IV. Within moments he was sighing, his eye half closing.

"Sleep," she hushed to him. "You're safe now, Booth."

But he wasn't. Not really. Not from himself.

The doctors kept him admitted for a month. Booth was slow to heal, both physically and mentally. Brennan knew Booth comprehended everything she said to him, but it still took two days before he'd said anything back to her. And even then, it had been only one word he'd spoken.

She'd taken it personal at first. Until she saw the way he acted with others. The Squints all came to visit at various times. Booth smiled politely but didn't engage much with anyone. Cam, who'd he known for years, didn't get any more out of him than anyone else.

"It's like he's broken," Cam told Brennan tearfully out in the hall afterwards. "Brenghause got into him somehow."

It wasn't just Brennan. He was keeping everyone at arms' length.

Doctors ran test after test on him to check for brain damage. Brennan had protested every step. "It's not that Booth is incapable of talking," she explained. "He doesn't _want _to."

Tests only proved her point. Booth's brain function was normal. What was happening to him was purely psychological. And so the doctors brought in a therapist.

Brennan found herself objecting again. "He won't speak to him. If you want to help him then call in Dr. Sweets."

Dr. Richards, a man Brennan was coming to know quite well, shook his head. "We looked into it. Dr. Sweets isn't trained for this level of trauma. This is the best we could do."

Booth disregarded the therapist just as he did everyone else. Only worse. Unlike the others, he just pretended the man wasn't there.

During Sweets' next visit Brennan ambushed him in the hall. "Can't you help him? Isn't there anything you could do?" For the most part she felt psychology was a soft science. But in this instance she had to let go of her personal feelings if she wanted to help Booth.

"He's depressed, Dr. Brennan. Which is understandable and normal given what he's just been through. He's not talking to me any more than he's talking to everyone else. And if he's not talking to you," he added. "Then I don't think he'll talk to anyone."

That didn't stop Brennan from trying. She apprehensively brought the topic up herself one afternoon. "Booth, what happened to you?"

She held his soft gaze for just a minute before he turned away. He said nothing else to her the rest of her time with him. after the visit she ended up crying in her car. Booth was mentally torturing himself. Before she at least had a chance at saving his physical body. But he was showing her there was nothing she could do to save his mind.

"What happened to Debbie?" He asked her randomly another afternoon.

"Debbie?" The woman he had been held in captivity with? "She was saved."

"Good."

It was the only time he ever brought up anything regarding the incident.

Then Dr. Richards pulled Brennan into his office one day. She'd been appointed as Booth's caretaker, of which he'd signed off agreeing. Brennan wondered if he simply didn't want to be responsible for decisions for himself. His apathy was growing worse daily.

"We've run into a bit of a problem, Dr. Brennan." Dr. Richards informed her. "As you know we're a busy hospital. We only maintain a certain number of rooms and beds."

Brennan read right through his words. "You're evicting him?"

"Agent Booth is well enough now that-"

"He's not well," she interrupted him. "He's in pain all the time. He's hardly eating." She'd been shocked to see when while spying through his medical chart that he'd dropped ten pounds. "He's having difficultly taking care of himself!"

"You didn't let me finish, he's well enough to live with a caretaker."

They had no choice. If Booth couldn't stay there, then he wasn't going home to live by himself. He'd have to stay with Brennan.

He was awake in bed watching television, the only thing he ever really did anymore, when she came to give him the news. Brennan didn't sugarcoat it. "You're going home today."

Booth raised an eyebrow at her.

"With me."

Both eyebrows raised. "Are _they _the ones on drugs?"

The small joke was a glimpse into who Booth used to be. For Brennan it was a sign of hope. She couldn't help grinning. "You're coming to stay at my apartment. The doctors feel you're well enough to leave but not to be on your own just yet."

He didn't show much interest. But then again, it was rare he showed interest in anything anymore.

It didn't take long for the hospital to discharge him. Before picking him up Brennan retrieved personal items from his apartment, including clothes. The clothes he had been brought in with had been thrown away. It was doubtful he would have wanted them anyway. They would just be another painful reminder of what he'd been through; something he didn't need.

Booth was extraordinary docile during his transport from the hospital to Brennan's car. A wheelchair arrived in his room to take him down to the lobby. Any other time during brief hospital stints Booth had fought tooth and nail to be able to walk out on his own upon dismissal. This time, nothing. He calmly set himself down into the chair.

Brennan helped him as well as she could into her car. She knew he hadn't completely healed. During the drive it became obvious. Though he didn't face her she still noticed he winced over every bump and jerk the car made. Trying to be careful only seemed to make things worse.

At one point during their journey Brennan stopped at a red light. Next to her away from the street sat The Royal Diner. It was a regular haunt for the pair. More often than not they had breakfast together. They discussed cases. Much of their life together had taken place in that restaurant. _I should met him, _she thought again guiltily. _This is my fault. He nearly lost his life because of me. _

Booth was unaware. By the time she pulled up in front of her apartment he was winded from pain. His eyes were half closed. In the month that had passed the swelling had gone down, and the color had faded quite a bit from his other eye. However, the eye itself was still horribly bloodshot.

"We're here," she stated, just barely drawing a reaction out of him. "I know I didn't ask but I figured staying at my apartment with me was more logical than me coming to stay with you."

"It's fine," he said lightly. Meaning he didn't care.

Luckily, unlike Booth, Brennan lived on the first floor. The two went inside and got settled. Booth headed straight for her couch. Though length wise it wasn't very long he managed to stretch out over it just fine.

"I'll get the guest room ready."

"This is fine, Bones."

His nickname for her was one of the few comforts she got out of him. If Booth still called her Bones, then he was still somewhere inside. "No. You need your own space, Booth."

"I'm not your guest, all right?"

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine here."

There was something in his voice that made her decide not to pursue it. Maybe the closed in space of a room was just too much for him just yet.

Brennan didn't give herself time to fully ponder it. The sound of Booth's breathing hitching made her look at him. _Really _look at him. His color was ashen. She didn't overlook how heavy lidded his eyes had become. _He's in pain. _A pin prick of panic pushed her forward. "Booth?"

Just as in numerous times in the hospital he was slow to direct his attention back to her.

"Do you need a pain killer?"

He nodded in agreement.

She was beginning to catch patterns with his behavior. Patterns she hadn't understood in the hospital. His response time depended on how much pain he was in. At greater levels it was harder for him to concentrate on anything external.

They had been sent home with a bag full of medications and instructions. Brennan fished out his pain killers. Silently she extended one to him in an open palm. After he took it she handed him a glass of water.

It didn't take long before he was out like a light. The rest of the evening Brennan tip toed lightly. Not much seemed like it would wake Booth. But she didn't dare take the chance.

She'd just crawled into bed herself when she heard a strange noise in the living room. She stood, unsure of what to think. Could it have just been Booth? Or was it something else? Perhaps someone was trying to break in?

Brennan couldn't take any chances. She dug out the baseball bat she kept underneath her bed and slowly crept towards the living room. Along the way she heard various other noises. When she drew close she turned on the hall light over head. No violator was in sight. The noises had all come from Booth.

He was still on the couch sleeping, from what Brennan could tell. She went to his side and turned on another light to get a better look at him.

Booth was turned on his side in a pose almost identical to the one he'd been found in. His breaths were quick and labored. The muscles in his body were rock tight tense. His expression was twisted into that of great pain. Real or imaginary, Brennan didn't know.

_He's reliving it. _Brennan immediately tried to wake him. Did this happen to him every night? Was that why he'd always looked so exhausted when she'd visited him in the hospital?

Several minutes passed before Booth came to. Brennan tried to console him. She tugged him close into an embrace. Through his skin she could feel his racing heart beating against her own. Then, abruptly, he pulled away from her.

She didn't know what to say. Above all she'd always been able to give Booth her silent comfort. A smile. A touch. An hug. This time he seemed to want nothing from her, or anyone else.

Wordlessly she stayed with him until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. In the morning she walked back to him to find him sleeping. Every single light she owned was on in her living room. A radio played quietly from the kitchen. One of Brennan's college textbooks was laying open face down against his chest. His bottle of pain killers sat on the end table next to him.

Brennan didn't know where to start. She counted his pills, noting that he'd taken more. Gently she removed the book from his chest. It'd obviously been a distraction. Booth was intelligent, but the type of book he'd picked out wasn't easy reading.

Words he'd said to her once before popped randomly into her head. _You don't get over it, Bones. You just survive._

She wondered if he'd be able to "just survive."


	5. Brennan's Date

After a few days Brennan reluctantly returned back to work. She didn't know what else to do with herself. While Booth had still been in the hospital she'd had the idealization that upon his release things would begin to change. Being out of the hospital and living with her would be a comfort for him. Booth would begin that climb back up into recovering and finding himself.

Unfortunately, she'd been wrong.

Booth didn't behave much different than he did in the hospital. He remained wary of her; of everyone. Most of his time he spent sleeping. When he woke, he'd maybe eat a little something and then take another pain killer. Before long he'd be back deep in a slumber.

She tried to look for good in this. But there was none. Booth remained in a great deal of pain. When she brought her concerns to Sweets, he suggested Booth liked being in a constant state of sleep. It kept him from having to deal with his emotions and memories.

Brennan didn't know what to think. His nightmares hadn't stopped.

She'd tried again to get him to talk to her. Repeatedly she'd asked him what happened. There was a lot she remained unknowing, and she didn't like that. Booth shared everything with her.

At first he'd ignored her. But finally after the third time he said, "look, Bones. I don't want to talk about it. I'm not gonna ever want to talk about it. So please, just stop."

She had.

Presently she sat at her desk, staring lifelessly at her computer. The entire mood of the lab had changed without Booth's presence. There was little work to be done without the investigation into murders.

"Hey, Tempe."

Brennan looked out around her computer to see Baker standing at the foot of her desk. "Hi." The two had kept in contact since finding Booth. He'd even come to visit the both of them at the hospital during Booth's coma.

"How's it going? How's Booth?" He noticed her sorrowful expression. "Uh oh."

"Things are just… not going the way I thought they would," she admitted. "He won't talk to me. I thought he'd have a strong desire to get back to work and he's impassive. About everything."

Baker moved around to the side of her desk. He took a seat on the edge. "Tempe, what he went through is a lot for someone to deal with. He needs time."

"He was a sniper in the Army. I know he was tortured during that time. It didn't seem to effect him as much as this has."

"You didn't know him then, right? You don't know how long it took him to get back to that point. Besides, I'm sure he was a kid then. He's older now. It gets harder the older you get."

She studied him. "You sound like you know."

He shrugged. "I've been in some tight spots." Clearing his throat, he continued. "Well, I was just in the neighborhood and stopped by. Actually, that's not true. I have this gala thing I have to attend tonight. I know it's late notice but would you be my date?"

Smiling as she thought about it, Brennan agreed. "I can be ready by tonight."

"Perfect."

They made arrangements for that evening. Before leaving Baker gently pressed his lips against her cheek. He then left just as Angela was coming in. She'd seen everything. "Sweetie, what are you doing?"

"Going out tonight with Baker."

"A date?"

"Yes."

She paused. "What about Booth?"

"What about him? Ange, he doesn't care if I'm with him or not."

She said delicately, "you don't know that for sure. He loves you, sweetie. He needs you now more than ever."

"He sleeps for hours at a time."

"Yeah, and has terrifying nightmares!"

Brennan stood. She retrieved her coat from the back of her chair. "He won't notice I'm gone." Throwing the jacket on over her shoulders, she brushed by Angela and left.

"You don't know that," Angela repeated in a whisper.

***

Booth was sleeping as usual when Brennan came in a few hours later. A new dress hung in a protective cover off of her fingers. She didn't bother waking him to let him know she was home. It was hard to predict how Booth would react when he woke, and quite simply, she didn't have the time. Tonight was going to be all about her.

She showered and dressed. Her hair and make up took the most time. By the time she was done Baker was due to pick her up in less than ten minutes. Into the living room she set about looking for a particular pair of stilettos she wanted to wear.

Booth had woken. He switched on the light sitting next to him on the end table. It was getting dark enough that he needed it on. Every night Booth slept with at least one light on. Sleeping without it was difficult. Hazily he watched her go through a shoe bin she kept by her front door. Then he took in what she was wearing. "Bones?"

She rose to her full height. "Booth. Hi."

"You look… amazing." He breathed. She looked happier than he'd seen her in a long time, which both pleased and saddened him.

Brennan flushed, grinning radiantly. "I know." In the bottom of the bin she spotted the shoes she was looking for. She pushed other shoes aside until she'd gotten them out.

He'd no more said, "what's the occasion?" when there was a knock at the front door.

Brennan seized on it. She opened it and kissed Baker hello. "I couldn't find my shoes. Let me just fetch my purse."

Booth realized he was uncomfortable around new people. With Baker, it was ten fold. Maybe if the man hadn't of been so good looking he wouldn't have felt so inferior.

"Hi," the man said warmly. "I'm Agent Baker."

"He found you," Brennan explained as she rejoined them.

_Why didn't you find me? _Booth just nodded.

"You look a lot better than you did the first time we met."

Awkwardly, Booth attempted a smile. "I don't remember."

"You were half dead. I'm sure not."

"We're going out. I have my cell if you need anything." Brennan put in. The two of them waved goodbye and were gone.

Booth's depression sank down another notch. Seeing Baker was bad enough. He felt a bit of anger towards Brennan for parading the seemingly perfect man around in front of him. Booth hadn't shaved. His hair was greasy and disheveled. She hadn't given him any warning. It didn't help that he felt she was treating him as if he were a child.

He leaned back and shut his eyes. Images popped into his mind, as they often did. Brenghause standing over him, forcing Booth to watch him heat up a fork with a lighter before stabbing him with it.

The shrill ringing of his cell phone brought him back to reality. An unknown number flashed across his screen. Tentatively he answered. "Booth."

"Is this Agent Booth?" A pretty feminine voice asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I don't know if you remember me. I'm Debbie-"

"I remember you. How are you?"

"…probably about as well as you. I know this is kind of sudden, but would you want to meet and just talk? I just," her voice broke. "No one understands."

Booth understood. It was one of the thousands of reasons he didn't want to speak of the abduction. It hurt too much, and no one would truly understand anyway. They wanted to hear, but not to listen. "Do you know a place called The Royal Diner?"

***

Brennan had more fun at the gala than she expected. After a scrumptious dinner she danced with Baker almost the entire night. She noticed how important he seemed to those around him. Constantly other agents were interrupting them in an attempt to chat. Woman tried to butt in to dance with him. Baker politely declined them all. The night's focus truly was on Brennan.

Towards the end of the night they separated for a brief moment so as Baker could get them both a glass of wine. Brennan took a seat at a round table. She watched closely as Baker was stopped by numerous colleagues. While he did give them the time of day, his attention was constantly back on her. More than once he offered her a sheepish smile. At last he was able to break away and return to her. To her he extended a flute filled with red liquid. "Sorry about that."

"It's all right." She took a sip. "You're pretty popular."

He sat down besides her. "Well, I don't know if it's so much that. A lot's been going on at work. We've been hunting down a serial killer. He's been tough to gauge. Everyone wants to talk and give their opinion on the case." He took a swig himself. "I've been busy, hence why it's taken so long for me to ask you out."

She flushed. "I'm glad you did. I haven't had this much fun in a while." Her expression deepened in dismay almost immediately after she'd uttered the words.

Baker noticed. "Hey," he said gently. "Booth didn't look as bad as I thought he would. Not compared to how we found him, anyway. He's healing up."

"His body is," she agreed carefully. There was one particular scar on his arm that wasn't healing. She'd caught him more than once staring at it worriedly in the mirror in her bathroom.

"But not his spirit," Baker supplied for her.

Brennan cast her eyes downward at the floor. "I just don't know what to do for him. He won't _let me_ do much for him."

"Have you ever considered that he doesn't want you to?"

She looked back up at him in confusion.

"What he's going through is a lot. I can tell you two are close. Maybe he's trying to protect you from the pain he's going through."

"But that's ludicrous. He knows I'd do anything for him."

"It's not about that." Baker sighed. "Look, I was taken and tortured during a case. Nothing like what Booth's been through, but enough. When you get back, it just takes a while. You could be anyone to him."

"I'm not anyone," she scoffed. _I'm his Bones, dammit._

"I know. I'm just saying, you're_ like_ anyone else to him right now. The line gets blurred. When you're violated like he was its difficult to trust anyone. He knows you care about him but he just can't let you yet."

She spoke the true thought that had been on her mind since she'd brought him home. "I'm afraid I'm going to lose him. Before this he was one of the strongest people I've ever known. And now…" Brennan had been worrying immensely about his mental health.

"He'll get there, I promise." Taking her hand in his own, he invited her for one more dance. She graciously accepted. Afterwards as the gala came to an end, she couldn't help but to admit, "I don't want this night to end."

"It doesn't have to," he murmured in a husky voice in her ear.

_Booth's probably sleeping again. He won't know I'm gone. _Taking his hand, she led him outside towards his car.


	6. Booth's Date & Brennan's Jealousy

An hour later Booth strolled into the diner. He'd showered and shaved, and surprised himself that he was feeling slightly better after finishing both acts. He spotted Debbie sitting at a table towards the back. Nervously he fiddled with his St. Christopher's medal as he neared her. Since coming home from the hospital this had really been his first outing. The medal had been one of the few things the hospital hadn't taken away from him when he'd been brought in.

Debbie stood. The two smiled awkwardly at one another. Then they sat down; Booth across from her.

"You look better," she started. "Even your eye."

It was a lie but he appreciated it. The truth was, his eye wasn't healing well at all. It was still bloodshot, and occasionally he had difficulty seeing. Brennan had offered to take him to a specialist more than once. He'd refused. "It'll heal when it heals, Bones." The truth was he didn't want anyone touching him. Anywhere.

"You do, too." That was the truth. Debbie looked good. Her scars were nearly gone. The only remainder of the abuse was her wrist encased in a cast. His felt his heart sped up as he noticed her beauty. In the dark he'd never seen what she'd really looked like, except for her dark brown eyes. Now he noticed she had pale porcelain skin hidden under a mass of long curly brown hair.

They ordered food and talked about everything except the obvious topic. Finally there was no choice but to bring it up. "I just can't relate to people. My therapist says this is normal. But it's just-"

"Hard." He nodded. "I haven't tried to talk to anyone. I can't."

Her eyes softened. "I understand."

"I don't want to go through it again. Every night I dream about it. Every night I'm forced…" Booth's voice broke with a soft gasp.

Debbie reached across the table and laid her hand on his. "To relive it. I know."

"You too?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I dream about killing him myself." She looked ashamed at the admission. "I'm not a violent person."

"I don't blame you. I get it." Booth felt something inside him shift. For the better. Someone understood him; understood what he was going through. Talking with her was easy. And a comfort.

Debbie offered a small smile. "I thought you might."

They ate and talked through out dinner. Afterwards they found themselves outside together under the moonlight. Booth perceived more than once that Debbie looked like she wanted to say something. Every time she started to she backed out. "What?" Booth prodded. "You look like you've got something to say."

"Ask." She looked embarrassed. "I'm having a hard time sleeping. I wanted to know if you'd stay with me."

Booth did a double take. Did she mean sex? "I can't. I mean, I'm not comfortable doing… I barely know you.." He wasn't a one night stand kind of guy. And if he wasn't in a relationship then he wasn't active.

Debbie caught wind of what he was thinking. "What? Oh, no, no! I just mean sleep. That's all."

With anyone else the idea might have frightened him. But with Debbie it felt all right. "Okay." But he was still hesitant. Guarded.

They went together across town back to her place. She lived in a two bedroom apartment overlooking the heart of D.C. Booth was breath taken by the view.

For a few more hours they talked before falling asleep on her couch together, in the same position they'd slept in during their captivity.

And despite having nightmares, it was still the best sleep Booth had had in a while.

***

In the morning Brennan returned to her apartment in a great mood. She'd had a wonderful time with Baker. However, when she noticed she was alone she began to panic. Where was Booth? Had something happened? Had he done something? The thought made her gasp out loud.

Just as she was getting ready to call him the front door opened. Booth let himself in. "Bones, hey," he said with a lazy smile.

"Where were you?" She wanted to know. Something had changed. The fear that had been in his eyes for so long was gone.

"Out." He shrugged.

Brennan persisted. "Out where?"

"Just out."

Frowning, she didn't like his answer. But she could tell she wouldn't be able to get more out of him. Sadly she let it go.

***

Over the next month things began to change dramatically. Booth seemed to grow stronger in both body and mind day by day. Within a week he had moved back into his own apartment. After that, he saw a specialist regarding his eye. While the doctor couldn't do anything to improve it's appearance, he was able to give him some drops for his vision. Only a few days had passed before his sight was restored.

He met with Sweets and while he still refused to discuss the abduction, the therapist felt confident enough to reinstate him. Booth was back on the job.

During this time he'd also struck up a tentative relationship with Debbie. If he wasn't at work or with Brennan then he was at Debbie's apartment. Unexpectedly he found himself falling for her. The feelings he had for Brennan never really went away. But as it seemed her own relationship with Baker was progressing Booth had to admit the truth to himself - Brennan would never feel the same about him.

Besides, being with Debbie was easy. Having someone he could take his fears to and have them truly understand was exactly what he needed to heal his mind. The first time they'd made love was awkward. But they'd gotten through it, and had better times since. But despite feeling better he still was unable to sleep without the lights on.

He kept his relationship a secret. His own personal secret. Having Debbie in his life wasn't something he was ready to share with others yet. He liked the world they had together.

Everyone noticed his sudden change in demeanor, including Brennan. And while all his friends seemed happy for him, she couldn't bring herself to be. Something was different with him. Something he wasn't telling her. She didn't like not being in the know. No matter how much she pestered him he didn't talk about his abduction, or anything personal.

Booth was back, but her best friend was remained missing.

It was all the more obvious one night during a get together at their local bar. After cases it was common for Booth and Brennan, and Brennan's team of "Squints" who worked with them at the Jeffersonian to go out for a drink. Baker had begun joining them on these excursions. Amazingly he'd been accepted into the group.

Booth had been enjoying himself when his phone beeped, indicating he'd received a text message. Pulling it out from his pocket, he glanced at the screen. His brow furrowed. He shut it and stood up. "I have to go. I'll see you guys tomorrow." From his wallet he placed money on the bar top for his drink. Then he left to various goodbyes.

"He's seeing someone," Angela grinned from ear to ear once he was out of earshot.

Brennan was astounded. "No, he's not. You don't know that."

"He most definitely is," Baker approved.

"No. He can't be." _He would have told me. Wouldn't he? _Brennan didn't like the pang of jealousy she was suddenly feeling.

"Why not?"

"He'd tell me."

The mood grew somber. "Sweetie, why else would he leave like he did?" Angela started.

"It could involve his son."

"He'd say that." Cam pointed out. "Face it, he's got a girlfriend."

Distraught, Brennan excused herself. The remaining group glanced at one another in confusion. It was Angela who ended up chasing her outside.

Brennan had stopped and seated herself in a bus shelter just outside the doors. Once Angela found her she stood over her. "What was that about?"

The truth was Brennan was envious. Very envious. These emotions were ones she didn't know what to do with. Why should she care if Booth was seeing someone? After all, she had Baker. But it did bother her. More than she was willing to admit. "I don't understand why he wouldn't have told me."

"We're just guessing. Having fun."

"No. I think you're right." Pursuing her lips, she wondered tearfully, "what happened to us?"

Angela pulled her into a hug. "He's not over it, sweetie."

"But he's been doing so well."

"He's been getting better. But he's not quite back."

Brennan ended the embrace. "How do you know?"

Angela inhaled. "You can see it in his eyes. He's haunted by what he's been through."

"Why haven't I noticed?"

"Because you don't want to see. None of us do. We just want the old Booth back."

Brennan decided she needed to return to keeping an eye on him. She almost told Angela of the way she was feeling. But she decided against it. Feelings were just feelings. It didn't mean anything. They'd go away. Or so she thought.


	7. Realizations

Brennan kept true to her silent promise. Over the next few weeks she observed his behavior closely. Gradually she began to see what Angela did. There was something hiding behind Booth's eyes that without looking for it wouldn't be noticed. His ease with people wasn't quite back. Questioning suspects was still a breeze for him, but she began seeing a moment of uncertainty before he began speaking. He acted as though he were still in pain, which Brennan didn't understand. Booth's body should have completely healed.

"How are your ribs?" She questioned him randomly one day.

He gave her a strange look. "Fine."

She also detected he seemed exhausted. Always. "How are you sleeping?" Another afternoon she asked over lunch.

"Why?"

"Well, the dark color under your eyes-"

"I'm sleeping about as well as I ever have since… you know, Bones." Booth avoided looking at her.

Because of her preoccupation with Booth her relationship with Baker was turning sour. Finally he broke it off. "Your heart just isn't here anymore," he told her.

It effected Brennan little. She was still trying to figure out the feelings of jealousy she came across every time Booth mysteriously disappeared.

A month or so later she was let into that part of his world. The two were driving late one night on their way back to the Jeffersonian when his phone rang. "Booth." He answered. Instantly his tone changed into affection. "Whoa, wait. What's wrong?" Pause. "Yeah. I can. I mean, I'm with somebody right now." He looked at Brennan out of the corner of his eye. "Okay. We'll be right there." He hung up. "I gotta make a stop."

She obliged.

Booth parked next to an apartment building out on the street. "You can wait here if you want."

Wait? She was too curious. "It's fine." She slid out.

Booth's expression tightened. He exhaled before letting her upstairs with him. At a door on the third floor he started to pull out his keys, then knocked instead. The action didn't go unseen by Brennan. This _had _to be his girlfriend. He had keys?

Debbie opened the door. "Hi. Come in," she welcomed them both. They stepped inside together. Booth made introductions.

"I've heard so much about you," Debbie greeted Brennan.

"Wish I could say the same." She eyed Booth coldly. Critically she took in Debbie. Again the jealousy showed itself.

"I hate to be rude," Debbie continued. "But can I speak to you in private?" She turned her attention on Booth.

"Of course," Brennan permitted.

The two disappeared into Debbie's bedroom. The door shut behind them.

Brennan took the opportunity to poke around Debbie's apartment. From what she could gather the woman was a lawyer. Unintentionally she rolled her eyes. Figured. Booth always went for lawyers.

Back in Debbie's bedroom she jerked Booth away from the door. "Last night, did you notice anything?" She faced him.

Uh oh. Woman territory. He better tread lightly. "Was I supposed to?" Lamely, he asked.

She cocked her head. "I'm serious. Did you see anything on my hip?"

He grinned boyishly. "Deb, when we're having sex I'm not usually looking at your hip."

Debbie didn't share his expression. She lowered her jeans just enough to show Booth an angry red lump on the side of her hip. The area around it was a multitude of dark colors. "I discovered it in the shower this morning."

Booth whistled. "What'd you do? Did you bump into anything?"

"No."

"It's probably just an infection or something."

"Booth," she squeezed his hand. "This is the spot where Brenghause injected me."

Understanding flooded his face. "No," he said simply. "You're not sick. _We're_ not sick."

"You can't be sure of that."

"They ran tests on us. In the hospital." He swallowed nervously. "They ran everything. They did AIDS tests on us. We came back clean."

"You know as well as I do that can take months to show up." When Booth looked away she applied pressure to his hand once again. "We both know you haven't been feeling well for a while now."

"I don't have a lump." He had a scar at the injection site. The same scar he'd been checking every day for months.

"I'm going to the doctor tomorrow."

"I'll take the day off and go with you."

"What about your case?"

He held her close and kissed her. "This is more important."

By the time he left to drive Brennan to the Jeffersonian he couldn't feign his shock. Was Debbie sick? Did that mean he was ill as well? What was he going to do if they were?

He and Brennan got back into the Suburban. His mind went numb before he was able to put the key in the ignition.

"Booth?"

He lifted his gaze to Brennan.

The complete terror in his eyes frightened her. Something very bad had happened. _Was_ happening. There was nothing she could say. She didn't know if he would tell her even if she did. So she did what came natural to her concerning him. Brennan hugged him tightly.

For the first time in months, he hugged her back.

***

The following morning Booth woke up feeling heavy hearted. He untangled himself from Debbie, kissing her on the forehead. After calling into work he got into the shower. While soaping up he examined his arm just as he always did. Today he noticed a large red lump looming back at him.

His heart stopped.

***

That same morning Brennan sat in her office thinking. She gotten the news that Booth wasn't coming into work. She wasn't stunned, and truthfully she was glad. Just for a while she needed to be away from him to sort herself out.

She thought back to everything they'd endured together. The anguish she'd felt after nearly losing him to Brenghause. The heartbreak when he'd rejected her. The envious feelings of Debbie; of everything he shared with her. In that moment she came to discover she wasn't jealous of Debbie, per se. She wanted to _be _Debbie. She wanted Booth's love. "Oh, God." She spoke out loud. Brennan didn't just love Booth. She was _in _love with him.

Hodgins happened to arrive in her office just then. "Dr. Brennan I-" he stopped himself when he noticed her expression. "Whoa. Are you all right? Because you look like you just stuck your finger in a light socket."

Angela was right behind him. "Oh. I think this is a 'girl moment.'

"I'm leaving," Hodgins smirked.

Once he was gone Angela shut the door. "Sweetie, what is it?"

"I'm in love with Booth," she mumbled, still bowled over her revelation.

"Duh." Angela snickered.

Brennan shot her a confused look.

"Hun, everyone has known you two were in love except you."

Brennan stood. "I didn't know till I saw him with Debbie. I have to tell him."

"No!" Angela's strong voice made her sit back down. "No, you don't. Not until you're sure your feelings are true, and this isn't just a fit of jealousy."

"Why?"

"Because he's loved you forever."

Brennan scrunched up her face. "That's impossible. We haven't been alive forever."

"He's loved you a long time," Angela amended. "With everything he's been through it will destroy him if you tell him you love him and then take it back."

"If he's loved me then why is he with Debbie?"

"Because you've never returned his feelings. He gave up."

That phrase hurt worse than anything else Angela had said.

"Sweetie, all I'm saying is before you act listen to your heart," Angela headed towards the door. "Don't break his."


	8. The Confession

Both Booth and Debbie were silent during the drive to the doctor's office. Neither knew exactly what to say. Debbie had been awake when Booth had gotten out of the shower. She gave him a quizzical look when she noticed his troubled expression. Mutely he showed her his arm. The two were in the same boat now.

At the doctor's office they were separated. The nurse checking Booth in did her routine statistical checks. He tried not to cringe so much. Sadly he wondered when, and if, he would ever feel comfortable with people once again.

"Blood pressure's high," the nurse frowned. She unclasped the cuff around his arm. Next she took his temperature. Once the thermometer beeped she studied the display. "Did you know you're running a fever?"

"No," Booth peered over her.

"It's just a low grade." She marked it down in her chart. "Doctor will be in shortly."

Her pathetic attempt at reassurance didn't ease his mind. Booth never, if _ever _ran fevers. It was just another sign of something deeper brewing beneath the surface.

By the time the doctor arrived Booth had fallen asleep on the exam table. Brennan had been absolutely right in her judgment of his exhaustion. Most days in order to stay awake he'd been guzzling down coffee. Once he got to Debbie's after work he almost always slept the entire night through, save for the nightmares. And of course with the lights on.

The doctor did the usual check up. He listened to Booth's heart and lungs. Another nurse came and took blood samples. Just as the doctor was fully examining Booth's arm he asked, "does it hurt?" His fingers pushed the area around it.

Booth started to say no, but felt a bright flash of pain. The noise he made was undistinguishable, but definitely one of pain. Any other time he would have been able to hold back. But the pain was a complete shock to him. The doctor's forehead creased with a frown.

The next thing Booth knew he and Debbie were both on the way back to the car with referrals for the hospital.

"What are we going to do, Booth?" Debbie tearfully wondered as they wound through traffic.

"One step at a time," he answered back breathlessly.

In the hospital they were subjected to more tests. MRIs. X-rays. More scans and tests than either one of them could keep track of. In the end they were promised a rush on the results and dismissed.

That evening passed in slow, tense intervals. Just for something to do to ease their minds Debbie left to get them take out. Booth could have cared less about eating, but let her. He had learned over time that Debbie was the kind who needed to take care of things. And people. If shoveling food in his mouth made her happy then he'd indulge.

His cell phone rang just as he was stepping out onto Debbie's balcony. While shutting the door behind him he retrieved his phone from his pocket. "Booth." Even he could hear the tired sadness in his voice.

The person on the other end paused. "Booth. Hi," Brennan said after a moment.

"Oh. Hey, Bones." Booth sat himself down on the floor. Debbie had a beautiful balcony. The walls and floor were made entirely of stucco. Wrought iron gated the edge off. She'd accented it with pale blue furniture, of which he wasn't using.

Up to his chest he drew in his knees. The sun was just beginning to set over D.C. The sky was on fire with vibrant colors. Booth loved this time of day. No matter how long he'd been living in the city he never stopped appreciating the view. The beauty.

Brennan still hadn't said anything beyond hello. "Bones? Whaddya need?" His tone was friendly.

"Just… calling to see… how you are…" It sounded more like a question than a positive sentence.

"I'm okay." _Just possibly sick. You know. The usual._

"Will you be back at work tomorrow?"

This was odd. He couldn't remember the last time Brennan had called to check on him. "Probably not." As much as he loved working he had no intention of doing so until he knew for sure what was going on with him. "How's the case going?"

"They reassigned it to another agent." Another bout of uncertainty. "You… told the bureau you quite possibly could be gone for a while?"

"Yeah." He didn't feel like elaborating.

"…do you need me?"

_Yeah, months ago. _The thought popped into his head, startling him. Up until then he hadn't realized he was still harboring anger towards her. Anger over her and Baker. Over learning it hadn't been Brennan who had found him, but a team of agents. "No. I'm good."

The whole conversation was strained. Booth ended it there, bidding her goodnight and hanging up. Setting his phone down next to him, he rubbed his eyes before continuing his gaze out at the sunset. Why was it where she was concerned things were so hard for him? There was no chance for them. It'd taken a long time but he'd at long last accepted it. With Debbie he was happy. So why couldn't he move on?

Maybe it didn't matter then. There were more important issues to attend to.

Despite fatigue he couldn't relax enough to sleep that night. The hours passed with bad late night television and constant assurance checks on Debbie. She had fallen asleep, though it was fitful.

In the morning he was dozing lightly sitting up in a chair at her kitchen table. Behind him she lovingly wrapped her arms around his muscular chest and kissed the back of his neck. "You should lay down," she under toned into his ear.

"Can't." He replied.

"You should-" Debbie never got to finish her sentence. The fore telling ring of her cell phone cut her off. They shared a look before she rose to answer it. Her voice was quiet. So soft he couldn't hear what she was saying. Once she finished she turned back to him. "They want us at the hospital."

***

Brennan followed Angela's advice to the letter. For the next few weeks she stuck close to Booth, especially where Debbie was concerned. The jealousy never eased. It only grew in intensity. Subtly she attempted to court Booth. But of course being the attractive woman that she was Brennan had never had to chase after someone. She'd always been sought out. Needless to say her hints were too superficial to mean anything to Booth. He seemed not to be noticing much of anything, anyway.

Those around him began to see it. After so many months of moving forward he was definitely taking steps backwards. While he'd never competely returned to his sunny self, he reverted back to being distant. His features were always darkened with some sort of hidden trauma. And all of his spare time was spent with Debbie. A fact Brennan grew more frustrated with day by day.

Neither of them were prepared when her emotions rose to the surface; when at last she could no longer take keeping her feelings secret.

Once again they'd wrapped up a grueling case. Back to the bar they'd gone to celebrate with their friends gathered around. Booth listened as they gossiped but kept his distance. He'd barely downed a beer when his cell phone chirped. Without even checking it he knew what it said. Right then he needed to leave. To those around him a mumbled a goodbye. Dejectedly he let himself out.

Having had enough of his disappearing acts Brennan tore out of the bar after him. "Booth!" She hollered. "Wait!"

He hadn't gotten far. Hearing his name he turned around.

Brennan jogged up next to him. Not an easy feat considering she was wearing heels. Up close she glimpsed what she hadn't been in focus enough to see all day. Booth was sweating profusely. His eyes were hazed with fog. "Where are you going?"

"Debbie's," he said simply.

"Why?"

Defensively he pulled back. "Because she's my girlfriend. Why do you care, Bones?"

His sharp tone bit through her. Blinking rapidly, she could only stare at him. "Because…" Brennan didn't really have an answer. The only response she had would change everything between them. Was she ready to take that risk?

Booth sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He must have felt bad for taking whatever was bothering him out on her, because his voice warmed up. "Just go back inside and enjoy yourself, all right? I'll see you tomorrow." Again he started to walk away.

She was losing him. It was becoming painstakingly obvious. Rationally what she was about to do was foolish. Unlike herself. More in a manner Booth would behave than herself. But in that moment she let it go. No longer could she keep her burning love for him all to herself anymore. It was time he knew. "Booth!" She called again.

Brennan stopped Booth just before they reached the end of the street corner. "I.. I want to tell you something."

"What is it, Bones?" He examined her, suddenly curious. "Why do you look so nervous? Is everything okay? Are _you_ okay?"

She looked nervous? Brennan took a deep breath and tried to look confident. Instead she just appeared pathetic. "I love you." Her response came out in an impulsive blurt.

"I love you, too?" He was puzzled.

"No, Booth," she grabbed his hand as he turned away. "I _love _you," she repeated.

Different emotions crossed his face. But it was the look of fear that made her take a step back. Had she said something wrong? Should she have waited until he and Debbie had broken up before making the confession?

"I'm engaged," he said finally in a strained voice.

She'd waited too long to tell him. Nodding, she did her best to smile as a hard lump formed in her throat. "Oh." What else could she say to that? "But I-"

"You can't love me, Bones." His voice was choked. "Not now."

Neither of them knew what to say to each other. To end the awkwardness Brennan walked away. She heard Booth call after her but she kept on going. She also couldn't help but to notice that he didn't give chase. He let her go.

***

"Brennan?"

"Hi, Angela."

"Where are you? You never came back."

"At work."

"… it's ten o'clock at night."

"…I know."

"Sweetie? Why do you sound like you've been crying?"

There was a long break. Then, in a shushed whisper, "Booth's engaged."

Angela stood up, nearly knocking hers and several other drinks over. With her phone pressed to her ear she found herself following the footsteps of her two friends outside the bar. "What?!"

"I told him, Ange. He's marrying Debbie."

Angela didn't believe it. Not for a second. In fact, she wasn't sure she believed Booth was even in love with Debbie. For years she'd seen the way he'd silently carried a torch for his partner. Love like that didn't just go away. No. She refused to believe it.

There was something just not right with that man. "Brennan-"

"I just want to work. I'll see you tomorrow."

The line went dead. Angela didn't attempt to call her back. This situation had gone off the tracks. All this time she'd been watching and waiting for her friends to get it together. Now she knew it was time to intervene. It was time to find out what really was going on with Seeley Booth.


	9. The Beginning Of The End

Her chance came the next morning. Booth arrived in the lab before Brennan. Angela had to figure that her best friend had worked herself until the early morning hours. Whenever distraught she hid herself in her work. That was just her way of dealing.

Unlike Angela, who confronted said problems head on. She latched onto his arm before he was fully in the door. "You. Me. My office. Now."

Her voice was so strong he was afraid to argue.

Inside her office she shut the door for privacy. Then she faced him. "You're not engaged."

For a brief moment he looked perplexed. Then suddenly he understood, his facial expression giving him away. The moment only gave Angela more proof. "Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

Angered, he started for the door. "You know nothing about my relationship."

Angela was speedy in heading him off. "I know you don't really love her. You have that syndrome, where two people who have been through something traumatic bond together because they feel the rest of the world doesn't understand them."

"The rest of the world doesn't."

"Did you give them a chance?" Closing in the space between them, she continued. "Did you ever give _her _a chance? Have you ever told her anything about the abduction?"

He closed up tight. Angela could see if she didn't move along he'd be out the door before she could finish prying. "I know you can't possibly be in love with Debbie because you love Brennan. You always have."

His eyes dropped down to the floor.

"Brennan may believe your crap but I see right through you."

The room was spinning for Booth. The stress Angela was putting upon him was making his already compromised state worse. Without warning he sank down onto her soft sofa.

Angela was right next to him. She gripped his arm. "Booth?"

"I'm sick, Ange," he admitted to her. "I can't let her love me because I'm sick."

Angela had a feeling he didn't just mean he had the flu. Worried tears pricked her eyes. "Sick?"

He nodded.

"Like…?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word. _Fatally?_ Nothing else would make sense in his rejection of Brennan.

Booth comprehended what she meant. "Yeah."

Angela gasped. "You've seen a doctor, right? They're treating you?"

This was a topic he'd been grappling with for weeks. Even now he still wasn't ready to discuss it. He was giving her as little details as possible. "Yeah. It's hard because they don't exactly know what's wrong."

Her grief struggled to show itself. "You have to tell her, Booth. You _have _to."

"I'm gonna. I am," he said to her look of disbelief. "I just, I haven't found a good way to tell her."

"She needs you, Booth. And you really need her."

"I know. I just wanna be able to tell her in a way that's not going to make her run to Guatemala or something." He tried to kid.

She didn't share his humor. Close to her she pulled him into a tight embrace, not caring if it made him uncomfortable or not. As it turned out she ended up being the one with uncomfortable feelings. Through his sport coat and shirt she could feel the prominent bones of his shoulder blades. Booth had always been a muscular, strong man. Now all she could feel was his structure. He'd been hiding weight loss.

"I'll be okay," he false promised her.

"You better be. Or else I'm going to kick your ass."

***

Things went on as usual between the pair, only tense. Neither of them discussed that moment outside of the bar. Nor did they discuss his engagement, which he still allowed her to believe was taking place, or Debbie. All their conversation was strictly procedural.

If Angela ever talked to Booth, she never said anything to Brennan about it. That struck Brennan as odd. Angela was never one to back down or go back on promises. Why hadn't she pursued her inquiry with Booth?

Some of her behavior sometimes made her wonder. Booth would cough or sneeze. Angela's eyes would become as wide as saucers. It seemed strange she'd act in such a way at such a simple act. Everyone sneezed. What was so scary about that?

Booth himself pushed further and further away day by day. Brennan was at a loss as to what to do. If he didn't love her like everyone insisted, fine. Rejection wasn't something she was used to but she'd handle it. Didn't he want to work with her anymore? Friendship was better than nothing.

One afternoon they'd gone trailing after a suspect. The man they were trying to rein in took off running. Booth gave chase. It didn't take long for him to catch up to the slightly overweight murderer. Side by side they ran down a back alley. In order to stop him Booth had to latch onto the man's shirt and haul him back against a wall.

The man didn't give up so easily. He fought back at Booth, harming him in any manner he could. But he was no match for Booth's power. He'd had him in a choke hold before the man pushed back and dropped them both to the ground. On his landing Booth managed to fall straight onto his arm with the lump. The pain he felt nearly caused him to black out.

The man rose to his feet. Before he could take a step forward Booth stuck his leg out and tripped him. Forward onto his face he tumbled. Booth rolled over and slapped hand cuffs around his wrists. Caught. "You have… the right…" He breathed. "To remain silent.."

Additional back up arrived then and took over. Booth gradually climbed to his feet. He crossed his arms, watching critically as the man was led away to the back of a police car. All those around him followed.

A stab of pain pierced his arm, reminding him of his own danger. Bright red blood was soaking through his shirt and jacket. God only knew what was happening underneath. The doctors had warned him.

He leaned back against the wall behind him. The scratchy brick scraped at his back as he slid down onto the ground. Booth reached across his chest and tried to apply pressure with his hand. The warm liquid just bled straight through his fingers. His clothes were sopping up the rest.

This was it. Like it or not Booth was going to die here. This alley after catching a perp was set to be his final resting place. His heart raced into over drive, making him feel as though he were having a heart attack. A powerful wave of dizziness drove his stomach straight into nausea.

Memories appeared to haunt him.

_Booth was restrained against the same cold metal table while Brenghause laid into him with a heated metal coat hanger. "You're nothing!" The man spit at him. The hanger might as well have been a whip. "You don't deserve to live, you know that? Putting an innocent man away." Another hit._

_Booth kept his eyes and mouth shut. With every hit he cringed inward a little more._

"_How many more innocent lives have you taken?" Smack. "How many, Agent Booth?" Hit. "Enough to deserve to have yours taken." Whack. "Although I'm sure you're far from innocent."_

Booth was gasping for air. He tilted his head back while his eyes shut. Brenghause had won. Without being alive he'd still managed to take Booth's life. In more ways than one.

***

"Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan glanced up from her cell phone at the officer calling her name.

"We need a statement from Agent Booth. Have you seen him?"

She ended her phone call. "No," she replied in confusion. The last she'd seen he'd taken off running. Booth never just disappeared from crime scenes. He'd never leave her no matter how angry or discomforting things were between them. So where had he gone?

All around the area she did a general canvass. When she happened upon the place in which he'd collapsed she could hardly believe her eyes. Racing to his side, she dropped to her knees beside her fallen partner. "Booth?" Her voice hit a high.

He was stark white and shaking. His eyes were still closed tight. Up and down his chest heaved while he struggled with his breathing.

"Booth what happened?" Brennan's eyes were filling already with frightened tears. "Are you hurt?"

He was unconscious to her presence.

She leaned in to get a better look at him. As she did she touched his arm. The feeling of sticky warm fluid made her draw her hand away. It was then she noticed all the blood. "Were you shot?" She yelled, thinking maybe if she talked louder he'd answer.

Nothing. Booth's trembling was steadily growing worse.

"We need a medical assistance!" She screamed to anyone listening. Her own fingers were shaking as she tried to peel off his clothes to get a better look. It was useless. Besides being dead weight he was pressed up against a wall. There was no way to move him enough to survey the damage.

Brennan pulled him into her arms, holding him close to her. "It's all right." She reassured him. "Hold on, Booth."

His soft, shallow breaths in her ear caused a tear to fall.


	10. The Truth

Brennan was really beginning to hate hospitals. As she found herself once again confined to a chair in the waiting room she let her mind fully assess the situation. Nothing was making sense anymore. Booth's strange behavior was worrying her more day in and day out.

If the wound had been caused by a bullet then how would Booth have caught their suspect? Why would he have allowed himself to be left alone if he needed help? For that matter, why _hadn't_ he called out for help? The amount of blood pooling out from his arm had been substantial. As he had been loaded into the ambulance she'd seen the blood on his hand from him trying to stop the bleeding. He had to have known the trouble he was in.

Debbie showed up sometime later. The two women didn't talk even though she sat down right next to Brennan. Brennan tried hard to conceal her emotions. "Congratulations," she said in a low voice.

Debbie looked befuddled. "For what?"

"You and Booth." Brennan was trying to be decent. Why was Debbie making it difficult for her? "Your engagement."

Slowly Debbie shook her head. "We're not engaged, Dr. Brennan."

The unexpected punch of pain knocked Brennan breathless. Booth lied? Why would he lie?

"He told you we were?" There was something in Debbie's eyes. Regret. And rage.

"Yes." _Why?_

She never got a chance to respond with anything else. A doctor came with news on Booth. He pulled Debbie aside privately, igniting another spark of jealousy in Brennan. _She _was the one the doctors always spoke with.

After a few minutes Debbie returned to Brennan. "They're keeping him over night for observation. We can see him but not for very long."

Brennan stood. She and Debbie made their way to his hospital room. "What did the doctor say? What happened to him?"

Debbie pressed her lips together. "Panic attack."

"No," Brennan was quick to disagree. "Booth doesn't get panic attacks. And that doesn't explain the blood."

"He fell."

"That much blood loss could not be achieved by a fall." She saw the two had journeyed down the to the Intensive Care Unit. "A fall and a panic attack would not put him in intensive care."

Debbie faced her just outside his room. "You don't know everything, Dr. Brennan." She spun on her heel and went inside.

Booth was hiding something. And Debbie was covering for him.

She remained in the doorway and observed the two interact. Booth was asleep, or unconscious. Debbie picked up his hand and kissed it. Before leaving she leaned close to murmur something into his ear. Her lips met his one final time. Then she left, leaving while giving Brennan a devastated smile.

Warily Brennan entered his room herself. Her steps were reluctant while she made her way around his bed. Booth was as pale as death itself. The machines hooked up to him were seeming to be useless. Even with them his breathing had no regular pattern. Discreetly she peeked underneath his hospital gown at his arm. The area was completely bandaged.

Next to him she fell down into a chair. Through out the entire night she stayed with him, disregarding the doctor's orders. It was silly but watching him breathe, no matter how difficult, was reassuring. She used the time alone to think. _Really _think. She thought about everything they'd been through together. She thought about how just as he was getting back on the road to being himself he'd pulled back unexpectedly. He'd gotten cold. He'd lied about being engaged. And now he appeared to be on the verge of death when he'd "had a fall and a panic attack."

She thought back to the night at Debbie's apartment. That had been the night when things had begun to go wrong. In his car she'd held him in her arms for a long time. He'd been much closer to her than he had in months. When disappointingly the embrace ended, he had looked over into her eyes and squeezed her hand.

Brennan missed that man. She wondered where he went.

_You can't love me, Bones. Not now. _His words echoed in her mind. At the time she'd assumed he'd meant because he'd fallen for Debbie. But now, as things were becoming clearer, she speculated if he'd had a whole different meaning.

In the morning she left him to shower, change clothes, and eat. Before she could go back to the hospital she was called into the lab for a meeting. A _long _meeting. By the time it ended late afternoon had arrived. Traffic laws meant nothing to her as she sped back to the hospital.

In his room she walked in to find Booth awake, sitting up across his bed, with Debbie. She was holding his hand as the two listened to the doctor talk. The woman appeared to be holding back tears. Booth just looked exhausted. Brennan hung back by the door jam to eavesdrop.

"You have to make a decision soon, Agent Booth. Time is running out."

Brennan's heart slammed around in her chest.

"I will," Booth agreed in a throaty voice.

The doctor had him sign numerous release papers. Brennan ducked as he left the room without a backwards glance. Then she repositioned herself.

"You should just do it," Debbie was insisting. She reached into a bag and pulled out clothes for him to wear. "I am."

"I know." He seemed pensive. "But there's so much at risk."

"If it goes wrong, eventually it's going to happen anyway."

Booth rose from his bed. He tilted sideways, his hand shooting out onto the bed top to straighten himself. "I'd rather it happen later than sooner."

What happen? Brennan was frustrated. They were even vague with each other!

Debbie handed him a shirt. "Well, I'm calling the FBI and talking to your boss. You need to stop."

He whirled around. "What? No."

"Look what happened to you! Sweetie, the doctors warned you." She took a step over to him and pulled him close. "You could have died."

Trying to keep himself covered and pull on his shirt was proving to be difficult for him. "It was just a panic attack, Deb."

Brennan swallowed. It was true. But Booth had never had a problem before.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

He lowered the shirt. His words were so soft Brennan almost didn't hear him. "I can't stop."

Debbie drew him back close to her body. For the first time Brennan noticed how skinny she had become. "I know. But you're going to kill yourself if you don't."

Booth pulled away. He lifted his shirt, staring at it and seeming to decide there was no way of accomplishing what he intended to do. He needed privacy. Brennan was caught like a deer in headlights as he went to shut the door. "Bones. What are you doing here?"

Debbie seemed upset while Booth's stature was relaxed. Obviously the other woman hadn't intended for Brennan to hear their conversation. Booth, on the other hand, didn't seem to care.

"I came to see how you were."

"They're discharging him." Debbie turned her attention back to Booth. "Are you coming back to my place?"

"No. I need to finish up some things at home."

"I'll drive him." Brennan volunteered.

Debbie seemed uncomfortable with the suggestion. "I can-"

"No. Really. I insist." The car would be a perfect place to confront him. Like it or not he was telling her the truth.

Debbie surrendered. Booth was indifferent. He kissed her goodbye, went into the bathroom to change, then emerged just as transportation was arriving with a wheelchair. "I'm all yours, Bones."

***

This time Booth unsuccessfully refused the wheel chair. Brennan tried not to smile as Booth told the poor attendant his "damn legs worked just fine." In the end he lost.

Brennan tried to come off as nonchalant as she drove. Because of that when she spoke the words were all the more shocking. "You're not engaged."

Booth guided his attention away from the window. "Hmm?"

"You're not engaged, Booth. You lied to me."

Something shifted in his eyes. He turned away. She knew he wouldn't be saying anything more. But that didn't stop her from trying.

"You told me, I couldn't love you _now._ What did you mean by that?"

Nothing. Not even an indication that he'd heard her.

She parked in front of his apartment building after a soundless drive. Booth started to climb out, then reached back and motioned to her to follow him. Brennan shut the car off. Together they climbed the stairs to his apartment.

He let them both inside. After hanging up his coat he led her into his living room. He sat down on his couch; she in a chair across from him. Booth's nerves were wrecked. What he was about to do terrified him more than anything he'd ever had to do in the Army or FBI. But he couldn't hide the truth anymore. _Trust her._

He was unable to look at her as he spoke in a wounded voice. "Brenghause… he nearly killed me in more ways than one, Bones. He beat me with heated metal. He starved me; drowned me. He tried to convince me my life was worth nothing. That _I _was the criminal."

Brennan shook her head in sympathy. _It's my fault._

Booth had to breathe in before continuing. "He injected both Debbie and I multiple times with something. Whatever it was, it's formed tumors on us both. They're filled with a toxin that's poisoning our blood. Bones," his voice broke. "I'm sick." The next words were the hardest to say. "I'm dying."

All the air was vacuumed from the room. Brennan gasped, nearly doubling over with shock. "You can't… treatment…?" Was all she was able to choke out.

"They're trying but, the doctors? They've never seen this before. They don't know how to help. The only option we have is surgery to remove it."

The conversation in the hospital room made complete sense now.

"Debbie's going ahead. I haven't decided yet."

"Why not?"

"Because they don't know much about this. The surgery could kill us."

This all was too much for Brennan to grasp. "Yesterday…"

"Weidner fought with me. He knocked me down onto my arm. It tore and released a bunch of the toxin."

The grip on Brennan's emotions was slipping. "I… you… you can't.." _Die. _Tears fell down her cheeks. Instantly she got up. This was too much. She needed to get away. In a daze she left his apartment with Booth calling after her.

Outside a hard rain had begun to fall. Brennan ran through it straight to the safety of her car. Only after she got in did she allow the gut wrenching sobs to leave her body. Her forehead dropped down onto the edge of the steering wheel.

Only seconds had passed before the passenger door opened. Booth got in besides her. "Bones." Without any of the hesitation that had been typical for him for so many months he reached for her. She latched onto him, crying into his shoulder. "Shh, Bones," he comforted her. "It'll be all right."

"You don't know that," she cried. There was nothing she could do to help him. She'd been worthless to him since the beginning.

"I'll be all right. We'll figure it out, okay? I'm not going anywhere." Lovingly he stroked his fingers through her hair. He held her until she had nothing left to cry out. Finally she lifted her head to look up at him.

The air in the car changed. One of them moved in first. Later, neither one would know who started it or what happened. All they knew was when Brennan's lips touched Booth's, he didn't pull away. He pressed himself closer.


	11. Caught

That night Booth didn't allow Brennan to go home. With the distraught state she was in he wanted her, needed her close. To know she was all right, even if he knew she wasn't. The two stayed together on his couch. No words were spoken. There was nothing left to say. Strong, quiet comfort was all he could give her. And she took it.

When she grew tired he set her up in his bed. Ever the gentleman he himself took to sleeping on his couch. Brennan tried to protest; he was sick. But it fell on deaf ears. He just wouldn't let her.

Not that she did much sleeping. For most of the night she laid awake lost in thought. Booth was dying. She'd thought the danger had been over once he'd been rescued away from Brenghause's clutches. But really, it had only been the beginning. And now, now when she was letting herself admit her love for him, she was losing him to a silent predator.

Brennan couldn't imagine not having Booth in her life in any form. He'd been with her for so long that it came naturally. Whenever she needed him, he'd always been there. Always willing to help her with whatever she needed. Always offering a shoulder of support. And where had she been all this time when he'd needed her? Not there, that was for sure.

Hours passed before she wasn't able to take it anymore. Softly she tip toed into the living room where Booth was asleep on the couch. Lights were on all around him. Brennan sighed sadly. Brenghause seemed to keep control over certain aspects of his life no matter how much time had passed.

Booth was sleeping, but it was erratic. He was turned on his side with an pillow on his arm bracing his head. His lips were turned up into a grimace. His breathing would pick up its pace before he'd shift and settle again. From what she could tell he never actually woke up. His dreams were pulling him under like a strong magnet.

It was when he made a sound that resembled a moan that Brennan found herself needing to save him. Caringly she put a hand on his chest. His heart beat was racing severely beneath her hand. She was about to call him when suddenly he balked so hard away from her that the couch slid across the floor a few inches.

The two watched one another. Booth panted, struggling to get his breath back. His eyes softened as he took her in. But the damage had already been done. In that moment Brennan understood why he'd forged such a fast relationship with Debbie. Brennan had no idea what he'd been through. She never would, no matter how many of his experiences he told her.

She remained with him until he drifted off again. Then she returned to her own bed.

In the morning she slept in until late. When she woke for the second time she found Booth gone from the couch. In the kitchen he was bent over his table, both hands out bracing himself. His shoulders heaved. Brennan saw then how lean he had become. "Booth?"

He turned around. Though he smiled she could see the physical pain he was hiding.

"Booth," she started towards him.

"Bones, you gotta promise me something."

She was caught off guard. "What?"

"Angela knows but… don't tell anyone else about this, okay?"

Taken aback, she shook her head. "Booth, they're your friends."

"I know. I'll tell them. Just," he winced and breathed in through his teeth. "Not yet."

Again she found herself drawn to him. Taking her hand into his own, she insisted, "perhaps we can help you. We can find a way to cure this."

"There isn't any way."

"You don't know that. I could get your medical files and-"

He silenced her with a kiss. "Promise me," he whispered against her lips.

She was against it. But she agreed.

***

Neither of them discussed their kiss. Or the second one. Or the ones that followed there after. Nothing between them seemed to change. Yet. Booth wasn't around enough to have anything happen with Brennan. When he wasn't with her at work he was with Debbie as her surgery grew near. Her condition deteriorated. Booth himself was on a steady decline as well.

Brennan tried to get him to take it easy. But it was like attempting to stop a bull. Booth knew two speeds, reckless or sleeping. There was no in between. He pushed himself harder than he should have. Harder than she should have allowed.

And try as hard as he might, he couldn't keep it from showing. The low grade fevers he had been running were beginning to climb higher in degrees. He was winded much easier. Throughout the day Brennan found herself doing more of the work as Booth constantly needed to rest. However, he never complained. For the most part he never made a spectacle of himself. His suffering was done in private.

He still hadn't made a decision regarding the surgery, which frustrated Brennan to no end. If he didn't make a decision soon she knew he wouldn't be strong enough to survive it.

A few days before Debbie's surgery Brennan hadn't been able to find Booth. He hadn't come into the Jeffersonian that morning. All calls to his cell phone went unanswered. Given his illness she worried tremendously. After she checked his apartment to find it empty she headed straight for the Bureau. Deep down she knew Debbie's apartment should have been the next step. But Brennan couldn't bring herself to go there on her own. Booth had left that situation open ended. She hadn't asked him about it.

Thankfully he was in his office. She rapped her knuckles upon the glass door. Her heart sank as she noticed his reaction was delayed. Booth was in pain. He looked at her through the window and motioned her in.

"Hey," she started as she walked through the door. "I've been trying to call you."

"You have?" He seemed disoriented. In fact, he didn't have a clue where his phone was.

Brennan could practically see the fever he was running. His face was flushed and white. He was sweating badly. "Booth, you need to go home. You're sick."

"No." He waved her off. "I can work. I just…" he squinted at the computer screen. "None of this makes sense."

She stepped over to him and felt his forehead. "You have a fever."

His eyes shut. The coolness of her hand felt wonderful against his skin. "I'm okay," he persisted tiredly.

"No. I'm taking you home."

"Bones-"

She didn't know how to feel about him fighting with her. Unexpectedly she found tears in her eyes. Booth really was going to push himself straight into a grave. He was using his job to bury what was happening to him.

"Hey," he stumbled to his feet after noticing her reaction. He pulled her close, leaving his arms around her. "If it really means that much to you then I'll go."

Brennan tried to be objective. But looking at the man literally fading before her eyes, it was difficult. The emotions she kept in a tightly corked bottle came undone. "Why aren't you doing anything?"

"What?"

"Booth, you just keep getting sicker. Why aren't you going through with the surgery?"

His gaze drifted away from her. She could hear his breathing pick up. "Booth."

He blinked back at her.

"You have to do something." She held her emotion in her chest. "I don't want to lose you."

Not a word came from his mouth as he stared down at the floor. He was gone again.

"Booth!"

"You won't lose me," he whispered, raising his eyes back to hers.

A tear fell. "I already am."

Booth couldn't focus on much. The pain in his arm had spread throughout his body over the past few days. But Brennan crying drew his full attention. He tightened his hold on her. They found themselves in a sudden accidental kiss. A gasp caused them to pull away abruptly.

Debbie was standing in the door way. Caught.

Booth looked over Brennan's shoulder and saw her. The woman shook her head and left. Feeling awful Booth left Brennan to give chase. "Deb! Wait!"

He caught up to her at the elevator. The hall was mostly empty, allowing them privacy. "Deb, I can-"

"I should have known." She chuckled sadly in a tearful voice. "I really should have seen this. Men and women can never just be friends." Accusingly, she added, "you've always loved her."

Booth didn't know what to say. Her allegation was true. "I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for this to happen."

Debbie stabbed at the elevator call button. "How long has this been going on? Were you waiting until after my surgery to dump me?"

The floor was growing unsteady. Booth placed a hand against the wall to brace himself. His eyes were just barely staying open.

"How could you do this, Booth? She doesn't love you."

"Yes," he argued back. "She does."

"Then how come she didn't look for you? How come she didn't rescue you from Brenghause? We both know you would have searched God's green earth looking for her and she wasn't even the one to find you."

"She was there. She held me."

"You and I both know she let someone else do all the work finding you."

The elevator came. Debbie stepped inside.

Booth could only watch, powerless to stop her, as the doors closed and she disappeared. Their conversation brought forth a flurry of emotions and questions he hadn't asked himself since the first time he'd kissed Brennan. And now it was too much for his overloaded brain to process. He let go only to drop down onto the floor. Immediately he pushed himself up and rested his back against the wall.

In the distance he thought he could hear someone calling his name. His hearing faded in and out. All over it felt like pins were pricking his body. Breathing heavily, he let his eyes close.

"Booth?"

He opened one eye slightly. Brennan was knelt down in front of him. "We're going home."

Having nothing left to fight with, he just nodded in agreement.


	12. Brand New Hope

**Author's Note: The end of this chapter is not for kiddies. Sorry.**

* * *

For two days a dangerous fever kept Booth lost in a stupor. He slept mostly, so out of it that he didn't seem to notice if the lights in whatever room he was in were on or off. Brennan attempted to play nurse. But nothing she did seemed to have an effect. Higher and higher his fever soared. His skin burned red and doused itself in sweat.

She didn't know what to do. Did she take him to the hospital? Could they do anything for him? Debbie might know, but Brennan was afraid to call her. Brennan was sure she could handle whatever mean spirited things could possibly be thrown her way. But if Debbie turned on Booth simply out of spite in such a dire hour then Brennan wasn't so sure she could control herself. If this was it; if Booth was dying, then she needed to act fast.

Eventually she ended up giving in. It was her surprise when Debbie answered on the second ring. "Debbie, it's Dr. Brennan," she threw the "doctor" in there for good measure, as though to reinstate her status in the world. "Booth's sick. Really sick. I don't know what to do for him."

There was no reading Debbie's voice. It was nondescript. "What's wrong?"

"His fever is approaching one hundred and three. I have him taking aspirin but it doesn't seem to be helping. Should I take him to the hospital?"

Debbie waited a moment before responding. "Take him. Call Dr. Paxton. He's handling our cases. He'll know what to do."

"Debbie… thank you."

"Just take care of him."

Brennan rushed Booth straight to the hospital. While driving she called the number Debbie had given her for Dr. Paxton. The man was waiting for them once she pulled into the Emergency drive way.

Booth was taken straight into treatment. Brennan numbly sat down in the same chair she had come to know so well. She felt like breaking down into an uncharacteristic bout of sobs. It wasn't like she didn't know that Booth was dying. He'd told her himself. All this time she thought she had steeled herself. She was sure she'd had prepared herself for the worst and accepted it. But now, she realized she hadn't readied herself for anything at all. Over the years Booth had become so much to her. He was her rock. But now that rock was crumbling, leaving her scrambling to pick up the pieces. And no matter how painful, she wouldn't turn away. If the worst scenario happened then she'd still see it through.

For once she was given information on his condition right away. Dr. Paxton came to see her after only a mere hour. "We have him stabilized. We're working on reducing the fever."

Brennan exhaled. "Is it the lump? Is he being poisoned?"

"It's unclear at the moment whether it's tumor related or simply the flu. We've submitted some tests but haven't received results yet."

"May I sit with him?"

"Of course. He's been asking for you."

Brennan was liking Dr. Paxton. He led her through treatment into ICU where Booth was sleeping lightly. Sweat had already saturated the gown and sheet covering him. Cold ice packs had been placed around his head, neck, and Brennan suspected along his body. He shivered every so often. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so miserable.

Next to him she pulled up a chair. "Booth," she talked straight into his ear. "I'm here."

His eyes cracked open. "Bones?"

"Yes. The doctors are working on helping you. You're in good hands."

He shuddered. "Why didn't you find me?"

Brennan pulled her head away a bit in confusion. What did he mean? "I've been with you all along."

"Brenghause." He sighed tiredly. "You said, Baker found me."

She didn't understand where he was going with his thoughts. "Booth, you're delirious."

"Why was it Baker? Why wasn't it you?" He shut his eyes.

Even though she didn't get it she understood he needed answers. "There was nothing for me to go on. The only evidence in your car was your own blood. I had to trust the FBI." She held onto his cold hand. "I had to let someone else take control. If it meant saving your life than I would have completely disassociated myself. I couldn't jeopardize your chances." The guilt she hadn't felt in a while found her. "I should have looked for you sooner. I should have known something was wrong."

"You held me," he murmured as he drifted off.

She clung to his hand. "I'd do anything for you."

***

By the next day the fever had broken. The day after that Booth was released from the hospital all together. Dr. Paxton never did determine what had caused the sudden illness. There were no signs of virus in Booth's blood and the amount of poison intoxicating him hadn't changed. But none of them cared, as long as Booth was healthy once again.

Unfortunately, he hadn't come away unscathed. He was much weaker than he had been. Now he was given no choice but to stop working all together. Brennan had to at last fill her colleagues in on the awful truth. No one could quite believe what was happening to their friend.

Booth had been home no more than a few days when Brennan woke up to find the bed empty one morning. Since coming home the two had begun sharing a bed. They'd been shy at first, but had gotten over it quickly. She liked having him next to her. It allowed her a sense of security. However sleeping with the lights on took some getting used to.

She sat up, noticing his shoes and jacket were gone. As was his phone from the spot where he kept it on his dresser. "Booth?" She called for him.

He appeared in the doorway, dressed and ready to go somewhere.

"Where are you going?"

"I got something I gotta do, Bones."

She felt jealous at being excluded, but trusted him. "Can you drive?"

"Yeah. I'll be all right. I got my cell." Booth traipsed in long enough to give her a fast kiss goodbye. Then he was gone.

Through the streets he guided his car back to the hospital. Debbie's surgery was that morning, and though he knew she hated him, he had promised to be there. That morning he'd woken up late and missed her. But when she woke when the the surgery was done he was determined to be by her side.

At the hospital he informed the front desk who he was there for. He was pointed down a series of halls until he found the waiting room for surgery patients. Down onto a sofa he sat. A few other families waited around him.

For hours he read magazines and drank cups of coffee. Sporadically he glanced up at the large old fashioned clock ticking over head mounted on the wall. Much more time passed than it should have. Every extra minute was causing another tick of anxiety in his stomach. Had something gone wrong? Had she died?

A doctor motioned for him some six hours later. The surgery was only supposed to have taken four. Booth tried to keep himself from running to the man. "How is she?" He swallowed.

"She's doing well. The procedure took longer than we anticipated. But I'm confident she'll make a full recovery."

Booth about fainted with relief. He requested to see her.

It was another forty five minutes Booth sat in Recovery waiting for Debbie to wake up. He held her hand lightly. It was that hand that gave him the first sign that she was waking up. "Oh, God," she croaked. Her eyes went straight to him. "What are you doing here?"

"I promised."

"You don't have to. I know there's somewhere else you'd rather be."

"Right now, there's no where else in the world I'd rather be."

***

Booth arrived back home feeling encouraged. He entered his apartment. The kitchen and living room were both empty. "Bones?"

"In here!" She beckoned from his bedroom.

He found her sitting on the chest he kept at the end of his bed. Roughly he sat down across from her. "I made an appointment for the surgery."

Her eyes lit up.

"Day after tomorrow." He shook his head.

Brennan didn't say anything. The look in her eyes said it all. Booth scooted closer to her. Tenderly he pushed her hair behind her ear. "It's gonna be okay, Bones."

What happened next was a blur. Both of them lost control as their bodies took over. Their eyes locked. Brennan moved in before he did. He hesitated, his mouth open slightly as she came near. The same idea was on both of their minds, making Booth unsure. However the moment her lips hit his he melted. The reluctance he was feeling dissipated. It felt right.

Soon what started out as sweet and innocent rapidly turned into something more. The hunger they'd both been feeling for each other bubbled to the surface. Booth drew her lip into his mouth, enjoying the quiet sound of pleasure she made. He released only to kiss along the length of her neck.

She didn't let him do all the work. Already her fingers were working the buttons on his shirt. In record time she had them undone. All over his chest and back she ran her hands, taking in every inch of him.

Without missing a beat she removed her shirt, tossing it carelessly down onto the floor. Booth moved her back onto the bed behind them. While nibbling at her lips his fingers undid the hinge on her bra. She took it off and threw it near her shirt.

Down her body he kissed his way. He kept his hands at her sides, stroking her soft skin with his thumbs. When he kissed just below her navel she pulled him back up to her level. Brennan kissed him a few more times before letting him pull away to kiss the area in between her breasts. Back and forth he moved onto each one, paying close attention.

Moaning, she undid his pants and slid them off. It was her turn to move him onto his back. After removing the rest of her own clothing she climbed on top of him.

Before either of them truly realized what they were doing, they were making love.

That night Booth had the best sleep he'd had in a long time. At long last, he was able to sleep in the dark.


	13. The Beginning

In the morning Brennan woke before he did. Sometime during the night the two had ended up on their sides facing one another cuddled close. Booth's arm was around her waist. Feeling pleased, she kissed his lips faintly. He didn't stir.

While he slept she critically looked him over for the first time since he'd been in the hospital. For the most part all his wounds had healed beautifully. The only evidence that still remained were scars that the more severe burns had left behind. Of course, the psychological damage was still strongly present. If it hadn't been for her she was sure Booth would have kept up his routine of sleeping in the light with the television playing. If he hadn't of been so tired maybe he would have even after they'd been intimate. She liked to think that wasn't true.

She ran her hand over his skin until she reached the tumor on his arm. There she stopped, losing her breath. Booth really hadn't allowed her to look at his body for too long while they'd been together. His arm was evidence why. The area all around the tumor was bruised. The dark colors spread in both directions, covering his shoulder and wrapping around part of his chest, and leading down to his elbow. Brennan hesitantly ran her forefinger over the section. He breathed in through his teeth, his face twisting up. She immediately stopped.

Booth's eyes blinked open. Brennan felt a strike of guilt. "Sorry."

He shrugged.

She could see behind his calm expression that she'd caused him pain. "How do you feel?"

Again, he shrugged.

"Booth."

"It hurts, Bones." His voice was hoarse. "And every day it just hurts more."

"Just one more day. Tomorrow you'll have the surgery and be fine."

"Lets not talk about it." He scooted down under the blankets. Within minutes he'd fallen back asleep.

Brennan could feel how warm his body was. Fever. She frowned. "Just one more day," she repeated to herself.

***

The rest of the day had a strange feeling to it. Booth mostly kept to himself. Brennan left him alone with his thoughts. There was nothing she could think of to say that could erase the anxiety he must have been feeling. Yes, Debbie had pulled through without any hitches. But there was still so much at risk. There was still so much unknown.

Later on in the afternoon Brennan had busied herself on Booth's couch keeping in touch with any work happening in the Jeffersonian through email. From the messages she was receiving, it didn't seem as though either of them were missing much. A crash in the kitchen took a moment to penetrate through her concentration. When it did, she blinked as though waking from a dream. "Booth?"

There was no answer. Quick she was to rise and follow the clatter into the kitchen. Booth was on the floor, legs folded underneath him as he feebly trying to push himself back up. She rushed to his aid. "What happened?" She knelt down besides him.

"I was trying to make soup," he explained through haggard breathing. His face was as pale as a ghost's.

He'd collapsed. He was too weak.

Brennan carefully helped him to his feet. Together they limped into the bedroom where she laid him down on top of his sheets. Without needing to check she knew his fever had risen. Down besides him she sat.

Booth tried to wiggle out of the shirt he was wearing. Brennan helped him pull it off. He quietly settled down. To the side his head tilted as he closed his eyes. Unfortunately his breathing hadn't eased any.

Brennan started to touch his forehead when her eyes became drawn to his arm. Specifically, the tumor. "Booth," she found herself saying. "I don't think you should go through with the surgery tomorrow."

"Have to," he mumbled.

"No, you don't. You're sick. It can wait another week."

His stare back into her eyes was haunting. "No, Bones. I can't."

Her understanding left her breathless. Booth didn't think he'd live another week.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore," he slurred, shutting his eyes again.

She whispered her promise. "You won't."

While he drifted off she wondered how he really felt. How much he hadn't told her. Just how much time did he have left?

***

Booth slept through the entire night. Brennan didn't disturb him. In the morning the two ran through the motions. Both of them were too preoccupied with their own thoughts. Though his fever was down Booth still had a small one. There was no telling if the surgery would be performed or not. And Brennan wasn't sure how to feel about it.

They arrived at the hospital at the appointed hour. Booth was separated from Brennan. She was left alone in a waiting room while he was taken behind thick double doors to be prepped. A silly early morning talk show was playing on a small television mounted in the corner of the room. Though she tried to focus on it she couldn't. Her worry was stabbing a hole through her gut. Why couldn't they have just left them together?

Dr. Paxton sent for her not after long. The two fell into step in the hall way leading down to where Booth was waiting. "The surgery will take somewhere between four and six hours."

"So you're going ahead with it? Even though he's feverish?"

"Yes. It's at ninety nine point nine." The doctor's face turned grave. "I don't think it'll go down any more."

Another piercing stab. "Can I see him before he goes in?"

"Of course. He's been asking for you."

Dr. Paxton dropped her off in Booth's room. He then left to scrub up. Brennan went to Booth's bedside. It appeared as though he was sleeping. However when she touched his hand he looked at her.

"Hi."

"Hey," he coughed. "I already got the anesthetic. Will you stay with me till I fall under?"

"Sure - of course." As if there any where else she'd go.

Booth seemed to already be losing the battle to stay awake. He looked pensive. Upset.

"You're going to be fine. I really trust Dr. Paxton." She tried.

He was silent.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking Brenghause is probably laughing his ass off at me right now."

"Booth, that's impossible. He's dead."

"You know what I mean, Bones."

"No. I don't." She shook her head. "You're alive and he isn't. You lived through everything he tried to take away from you. You should be the one laughing, if he were still alive."

A smile crept across his face. It disappeared as his eyelids fluttered closed.

Heart hammering in her chest, Brennan tentatively pressed her lips against Booth's. He kissed back, until she felt him slip. "You'll be fine," she hushed into his ear.

Transportation appeared then to take him into surgery. Brennan stepped aside, helpless to watch as he was wheeled away.


	14. The Struggle

**Disclaimer: Lyrics are "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper**

* * *

_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick and think of you_

_Caught up in circles - confusion is nothing new_

_Flash back, warm nights, almost left behind_

_Suitcase of memories_

Brennan tried to keep herself distracted. She read magazine after magazine. Watched one terrible talk show after another. Struggled through the news. And nearly dozed off through several soap operas. She tried to keep herself from obsessively watching the clock but was unable. Four hours turned into five. Six turned into seven. When seven and a half hours had passed she could hardly keep herself together. Booth had told her about Debbie's surgery. Had it been like this? Should she have been as worried as she felt?

_Sometimes you picture me_

_I'm walking too far ahead_

_You're calling to me_

_I can't hear what you've said_

"Okay. I think we're just about finished." Dr. Paxton finished the last stitch in Booth's arm. "How is he doing?" He looked to his assistants.

One nurse was keeping close tabs on the assortment of machines keeping monitor over Booth. "His blood pressure is rising. Rapidly."

Dr. Paxton whirled around to look. Just as he did Booth's pressure increased enough to sound off an alarm. His pulse sped up. Suddenly before them Booth began gasping for air. His entire body trembled, shaking the table he was laying on.

"Get CO2 on him and call a code!" Dr. Paxton ordered.

An oxygen mask was secured over his mouth and nose. It did little to help as his frail body wheezed.

_Then you say go slow_

_I fall behind_

_The second hand unwinds_

Brennan was hardly holding her paralyzing panic inside by the time Dr. Paxton sought her out. It'd been eight and a half hours since Booth had gone into surgery. Two and a half hours past the expected time limit.

"Lets go into the hall," his soft voice requested. He put a gentle hand on her back. His actions only increased the fear she was feeling. Something had happened. If Booth was all right then there was no reason why he couldn't have just talked to her in the waiting room.

Dr. Paxton led her to a private area in the mostly public hospital hallway. She noticed immediately the difficult time he had speaking. "He's out of surgery. But there's been some complications."

Brennan reserved a breath in her lungs. "What happened?"

"The injury he suffered to his arm back while he was working lodged a dose of toxin in between his arm muscle and the tumor. After we removed the tumor that poison loosened and traveled straight into his blood stream."

She found herself unable to breathe. "Is he…" Her eyes fell down to the floor as she could barely finish her sentence.

"He's alive. But he isn't doing well. He's weak. There's no predicting what will happen in the next twenty four hours."

In other words, it wasn't hopeful that Booth would live. Brennan had to focus her gaze on the floor to keep herself from falling apart. "I want to see him."

"Dr. Brennan, I'm so sorry."

Her look snapped up to his.

"We're allowing no visitors into his room. In his compromised state germs can be lethal."

A tear escaped her firm resolve. "I'll wear a mask. I'll wear a surgical coat." She pleaded desperately.

"I'm sorry. The best I can do is let you look in through the window."

It was better than nothing. Brennan nodded her agreement. Everything around her was surreal as she fell into step behind the doctor. Booth should have stopped working sooner than he did. Brennan and Debbie both should have insisted upon it. Her mind ran through all the ifs. If Booth had only told her sooner. If Brennan had been the one taking care of him, not Debbie, would it have made a difference? Of course this line of thinking all came back full circle. If she had only had dinner with him that night so many months ago none of this would have ever happened. Logically she knew this wasn't true. Brenghause obviously had been following Booth's every move. If it hadn't been at the skating rink then he would have snatched her partner from somewhere else. No matter what, part of this was destined to happen. Her involvement in it, however, could have been more. Brennan shouldered all the blame whether it made sense or not.

Dr. Paxton stopped in front of an isolated room locked away in the ICU. Brennan stepped forward and peered into the window. Inside Booth lay in a bed surrounded by monitors. Wires ran from different points on his body. Weakly he breathed in a rapid procession. From a distance she could see he was burning with fever once again. Tears formed in her eyes. "Isn't there any way I can go in?"

"It's too dangerous."

For a brief moment she was silent. Then she barked, "then you better get me a chair."

"What? Why?"

Brennan pressed a hand against the cold glass. "I'm not leaving.

_After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray_

_Watching through windows you're wondering if I'm okay_

All through the night she made good on her threat. Dr. Paxton had no choice but to bring her a chair for her to sit in. No matter how uncomfortable she felt; how much her back hurt from sitting in one position for too long, she never gave up her vigil.

Booth woke from his surgery. Though because of his fever he drifted in and out of consciousness. Dr. Paxton found himself consulting with other doctors regarding his case. All of their efforts to bring the fever down and push out the toxin were futile. His temperature only soared higher. His attempts at breathing only grew faint and frantic.

Nurses checked on him every hour. More than once during the few instances when he was awake he asked the nurses for "Bones." The first time they'd disregarded it, chalking it up to the delirium he was under. But after the third time a nurse brought it to the attention of Dr. Paxton. "He keeps asking for bones. Does that mean anything to you?"

Fortunately, it did. Dr. Paxton remembering Booth referring to Dr. Brennan as "Bones." "He wants Dr. Brennan."

The nurse nodded sympathetically. "You should just let her go in."

"It's risky."

"With all due respect, his blood pressure is one eighty over one hundred. His fever is leveling at one hundred and four. His heart is racing, and he can't half breathe with a respirator. Doctor, it's more than likely he's not going to survive. You should just let her go in. It might do him some good." The nurse shrugged. She went on her way to finish making rounds.

Dr. Paxton gazed wistfully down the hallway to where Brennan was sitting across from Booth's room.

_Secrets stolen from deep inside_

_The drum beats out of time _

Brennan was almost asleep when Dr. Paxton stood over her with a gown and surgical mask. Looking up, she couldn't believe it. "I can go in?"

"He's been asking for you. Just be careful."

She dressed in both. Then she headed inside to his room, shutting the door behind her.

_If you're lost you can look and you will find me_

_Time after time_

_If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting _

_Time after time_


	15. The End

Booth was hidden beneath a light sheet. His head was turned to the side. His mouth was open, trying to breathe more life into him than his nostrils alone could, despite the oxygen tube plugged in them. He shivered sporadically. His color was glowing red. Sweat soaked his hair and beaded on his forehead and cheeks.

Brennan went straight to his side. She gripped his warm hand into her own. After some time his eyes fluttered open. Seeing her, his eyes half closed again. But his smile was wide and nearly lit up his whole face. It was the most gorgeous sight she'd ever seen. "Didn't… think you'd come." He panted tiredly.

"Booth, I've been here all along. Don't you remember?" No, she was startled to realize. He didn't. The fever was destroying his brain. There was no saying he even knew where he was.

He closed his eyes completely. All of his movements were delayed. She couldn't imagine how bad he must have been hurting. "They wouldn't let me in to see you," Brennan didn't know what else to do, so she continued on as though he understood.

She barely got a response out of him. Booth was going back under. Going back to a place inside him where she couldn't help him. She didn't even know if he understood the danger he was in.

The screen monitoring his pulse showed an increase in rate. Brennan was afraid he'd lapse into some sort of cardiac event. Her eyes welded with water all over again. "Booth," she choked up. "Listen to me, I know you're tired."

"So tired," he agreed in a slight, faraway voice.

"You have to fight." Letting her walls down, she cried openly in front of him. "If you let go you're letting him win. You're letting him take everything you worked so hard to get back."

"I can't-"

"Yes. Yes, you can." She squeezed his hand. "You will. You have to."

"So tired," he slurred again.

"You can't die," she whispered. "I won't let you."

But as he drifted off she knew in her heart there was little she could do. She wasn't a medical doctor. She was just a woman in love who was losing the one person who meant the most to her. "Please," she begged, knowing full well he was beyond hearing her. "Don't let him win."

***

Things got worse before they got better. For two days the poison took complete control over Booth's being. Still he continued to come in and out from the coma his body had put him in as a sort of protection. Brennan never knew what to expect when he woke. At times he knew who she was. Though he wouldn't speak he'd do his best to give her a comforting smile. His fingers would apply pressure to hers. Point being, he _understood. _Then there were times he came to only to have no idea who he was, who _she_ was, or what was happening to him. It was those moments that drove the fear down deep into her bones.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" She pleaded with Dr. Paxton.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan. It has to take its course." He didn't dare tell her Booth had already lived past everyone's expectations.

She returned to his room to find Booth's eyes wide open. His fast breathing had turned to rampant, hard gasping. His eyes looked right through her. Brennan went straight to his side. "Booth!" She put her hand on his chest. Although his heart monitor was already indicating what she felt, she kept her hand pressed down anyway. His heart beat frenetically.

Before she could yell for a doctor it was over. His eyes rolled back and disappeared beneath the lids. Beneath her fingers his heart kept it's fast rhythm, but the effect wasn't as intense. "Booth?" She asked timidly. He was still.

Brennan flew back out into the hall. She returned with Dr. Paxton who went straight to Booth's aid. Skillfully he reviewed the monitors. He listened to Booth's heart. Then he called for a nurse to draw blood.

"You suspect something." Brennan confirmed.

Dr. Paxton sighed. He was unable to tear his eyes away from Booth. "I think the toxin's ventured into his heart."

Brennan didn't think she had anything left to cry. She was proven wrong. Once the doctor left she leaned over Booth. Gently she kissed him.

***

Another day passed without much change. Then, gradually, things began to happen. Brennan stayed with Booth round the clock. If she went home then it was only to change. The constant watch was having its way over her. She was exhausted. Ragged. Inattentive. All her focus was on Booth. Except she was so drained even that focus was drifting.

A nurse came to perform a statistical check. "Huh," she murmured to herself.

"What?"

"His pulse has slowed some. His fever's down. His blood pressure has lowered."

Brennan raised hopeful eyes. "He's getting better?"

The nurse pressed her lips together. She said nothing.

Brennan looked at Booth. She could tell the nurse was assuming Booth was making a slight improvement before he passed on. She refused to believe it.

In the passing hours he continued to improve. At long last his blood pressure dropped within a normal range. His fever remained, but not nearly as high. Or as dangerous. The redness that had decorated his body for so long disappeared. Quietly he panted in a gentler frequency.

Night arrived. Brennan could hardly keep her eyes open. So she didn't. Leaning back in her chair, she shut her eyes and kept a close listen on his breathing. The pace of it was lulling her to sleep when she heard him moan almost inaudibly. Her eyes snapped back open.

His eyes were flickering beneath their heavy lids. Brennan rose. She gripped his arm like it was a life line. "Come on, Booth."

His chest was heaving. He was searching for strength. Slowly but surely his eyes cracked. With a deep breath he pushed them all the way open.

"Booth." She fought a wave of emotion and smiled. "You did it."

Booth licked his dry lips. He regarded her, unsure. "Who are you?"

Before she had a chance at responding he grinned. She chuckled in relief. At a loss for words she simply kissed him. He kissed back, matching her passion and love. "You're going to be all right," she assured him.

"I know."

He had a long journey ahead of him. But she was sure he'd make it. He always did.

The end


End file.
